Birds of Pray
by Kittenmommy
Summary: Ten years after the events of The Prophecy, Katherine Henley finds her life turned upside down by angels again... most particularly by an angel seeking forgiveness. Features Simon, Gabriel, Lucifer, and possibly others.
1. Simon Says

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 1

Simon Says

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: _The Prophecy_ belongs to Gregory Widen and I'm not making any money from this.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Despite repeatedly e mailing The Powers That Be here on FFN, there is no category for the _The Prophecy_ series of movies. So, I guess I'll post them here.

This fic contains a few naughty words. Later chapters may have references to hermaphroditism, as the first _Prophecy_ movie established that angels are hermaphrodites (i.e. in possession of both male and female sex organs and presumably genitalia). Sorry to disappoint, but there will be no graphic sex in this fic – I just don't write that kind of stuff.

* * *

The faculty meeting was over. When Katherine Henley returned to her empty third grade classroom, she was surprised to see that it wasn't completely empty after all.

A man was perched on the back of the chair behind her desk, his knees drawn up against his chest and his long grey coat hanging down behind him, adding to the birdlike effect. He was reading the teacher's edition of _Our World_, the third grade social studies textbook. Despite the long softly curling red hair that curtained his face, Katherine recognized him right away.

"Simon," she said quietly, disbelieving. "I thought you were dead."

He looked up from his book and smiled at her. Silhouetted against the late afternoon sunlight slanting in through the big windows, his hair shown like a halo of golden red fire.

"Hello, Katherine."

She ran a hand through her hair. "I – "

He dropped the textbook on her desk and stood, effortlessly balancing on the back of her chair for a moment before jumping lightly to the ground.

She backed away as he approached her. "Don't be afraid, Katherine. I bring you glad tidings."

"I can't do this," she protested, holding her hands up as though to push him away. "I can't deal with you people anymore!"

"The War is over," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "Heaven has been opened to your kind, and my brothers are my brothers once again."

"Good for you," she said shortly, backing out the door.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "My brother Gabriel has regained his grace and once again sits at our Father's left hand."

"Great," she said, yanking her arm out of Simon's grasp. "That's terrific. Tell him I said 'hi'."

"Katherine – "

She pushed past him into her classroom and began gathering up books and papers from her desk, stuffing them into a straw tote bag. He followed her inside, his hands spread wide in supplication. "If you would only listen to me for a minute – "

"Go away, Simon," she said harshly, not looking up from her task. "Just leave me alone."

"But you need to know – "

She slammed a book down on the desk and looked up at him, glaring. "No, I _don't_ need to know. And whatever it is, I don't _want_ to know." She grabbed the handle of her tote bag. "Don't you get it? I am _through_ with you people!" And with that she was out the door.

Simon watched her hurry up the hall. "I'm so sorry, Katherine," he said quietly, stroking his goatee in thought. "But it seems that _we_ may not be through with _you_."

He pressed two fingers to his lips and kissed them, then extended them in blessing in the departing woman's direction.

A moment later, the hallway was completely empty.

* * *

By the time Katherine had stopped at the dry cleaners to pick up her clothing, Blockbuster to return a DVD, the bank to withdraw some cash, and the grocery store, it was nearly dark.

She opened her front door and stepped into the dim foyer. She tossed her keys on a little table near the door and flipped on the light. She was about to go back outside to retrieve her dry cleaning and groceries, but something made her stop.

With a frown, she walked into the living room.

The gloaming had turned the furniture to indistinct shapes, but she sensed that something just wasn't _right_. She fumbled at the wall for the light switch. The lights came on, and she gasped in surprise and fright.

There he was, perched on the edge of her coffee table like a great big raven: the Archangel Gabriel, the Angel of Death.

His hands were folded, resting on his knees. His head was bent at what looked like a very uncomfortable angle, his right cheek resting against his shoulder.

She stood still for a moment, eyeing him warily. He hadn't moved when the lights came on, and she could hear the even rhythm of his breathing in the empty, quiet living room. _Do angels sleep?_ she wondered.

She took a deep breath and bit her lip. "OK," she said, backing away slowly and quietly. "OK," she repeated, as if to reassure herself. She tiptoed gingerly back through the foyer and out the front door.

* * *

"What city, please?" the operator asked.

"Los Angeles."

"One moment."

Katherine sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the headrest of the driver's seat. She heard several clicks in her ear, and the sound of a distant phone ringing.

"What city, please?" a new operator asked.

"Los Angeles. The Los Angeles Police Department, Homicide Division."

"One moment."

There were more clicks. Katherine looked up through the windshield at her living room window, still lit from within. "Come on, come on," she urged the cell phone, willing the connection to be made.

"LAPD, Homicide," a male voice said in her ear. Katherine sighed with relief.

"Detective Thomas Daggett, please," she said.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but Detective Daggett is no longer with the force."

Katherine sat up straighter in her seat. "Really? Well, do you know how I can reach him? It's really, _really_ important. I'm an old friend… Katherine Henley from Chimney Rock, Arizona."

"Hold on," the man said. She glanced up at her living room window again, licking her lips nervously.

After several uncomfortable minutes waiting on hold, a new voice came on the line. "Ms. Henley, this is Captain John Billingsley. I hear you're inquiring about Detective Daggett?"

"Yes," she said, swallowing hard. She suddenly had a very bad feeling.

"I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Detective Daggett passed away several years ago."

Katherine closed her eyes, fighting tears. "I see," she finally said. "How did it happen?"

"I'm afraid I can't release that information," he told her apologetically.

"Right."

"Listen, I'm really sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"

_Well, the Angel of Death is roosting on my coffee table… think you could come to Phoenix and arrest him for trespassing?_

She sighed. "I'm afraid not, Captain. But thank you for your time."

She ended the call and stuffed her cell phone back into her purse. "What am I going to do?" she wondered aloud. She suddenly wished that she hadn't been so eager to get away from Simon that she hadn't stopped to listen to what he'd had to say.

"Serves me right," she said with a sigh. "They're not called God's Messengers for nothing." She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. She felt like banging her head against it instead. "Idiot!"

Katherine stayed in that position for a while, trying to relax enough to be able to think rationally about what to do next. _I could go to a hotel… just start the car, drive off and leave him there in my living room, doing whatever the hell it is he's doing._

The idea had definite appeal until she realized that an angel could probably find her fairly easily no matter where she was, just like Simon had done earlier that very day.

_Simon! Of course! Why didn't I think of that before?_

She sat up again, leaning back in her seat. "Simon," she said, shutting her eyes tight and concentrating. "I'm sorry I blew you off like that. What I wouldn't give to see you here right now, sitting in the seat next to me. I promise I'd listen to whatever you want to tell me." She waited a moment and opened her eyes, glancing over hopefully.

The passenger seat was empty.

"Rats!" Well, it was a bit much to hope for, she supposed… especially after the way she'd treated him. She tried to remember what little he had said – or rather, what little she'd allowed him to get out before running off like a scared little girl. She thought back to their conversation earlier that day:

_Don't be afraid, Katherine._ Ha. Fat chance, after all she'd been through with angels!

_I bring you glad tidings._ That line sounded familiar, but at the moment she couldn't think where she'd heard it before.

_The War is over; Heaven has been opened to your kind, and my brothers are my brothers again. My brother Gabriel has regained his grace and once again sits at our Father's left hand._

Katherine rubbed her eyes. _If that's true, then Gabriel is a good angel again,_ she thought. Then she laughed out loud at the absurdity: a "good" angel. Was there supposed to be any other kind?

_Well, there was Lucifer,_ she reminded herself with a shudder. _And speaking of Lucifer, I thought he took Gabriel to Hell with him. So what's he doing in my living room?_

Suddenly, she heard a voice – Simon's voice – in her ear, as clearly as if he'd been sitting right there next to her. "Why don't you go inside and ask him, Katherine?"

Her hand was on the car door before another thought brought her up short: _Can I trust Simon?_

Thomas Daggett had trusted Simon, she reminded herself. And who had been the first person she had tried to contact tonight?

"All right, Simon," she said with a sigh of resignation. "You win. I'll go inside and ask him."

* * *

Working as quietly as she could, Katherine brought in her groceries and put her dry cleaning away, occasionally poking her head into the living room to see if the activity had woken the apparently slumbering angel. She still wasn't sure if he was sleeping, unconscious, or in some weird state of hibernation unique to his species. And why he'd chosen her coffee table to do it on was totally beyond her. Well, maybe he'd wake up and tell her.

As she was putting groceries away, she noticed that the red light on the answering machine sitting on the counter was blinking. She pressed the message retrieval button.

_Hi Katie,_ a male voice said. _It's me. I'm not going to be able to make it for dinner tonight… have to work late on the Altman case. Hope you understand. Can I have a rain check for tomorrow night? Call me!_

Katherine groaned. With all of the stressful new developments of the day, she had completely forgotten that she was supposed to make dinner for Greg. Good thing he was stuck at the office. She finished putting the groceries away and decided to go check on her uninvited, unwelcome guest.

She took off her shoes and padded into the living room as quietly as she could. She stood for a moment, just watching him. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to awaken, she gathered her courage and stole closer.

He was dressed exactly as he'd been the last time Katherine had seen him, in a white shirt, a long black coat with many buttons down the front, and black leather pants. His black boots would probably leave marks on her coffee table, she reflected. She noticed that he was perched with his toes pointing inward, making her think of a pigeon.

Emboldened by her success so far, she crept closer yet and stood directly over him. Still he showed no sign of waking.

His black hair was combed back from his forehead. It feathered lightly around his ears and neck, and its texture didn't look much like human hair at close range. Instead, she was reminded of soft downy feathers. She only just managed to resist the temptation to reach out to touch it, to see if it felt like feathers.

His skin was as pale and smooth as ever, like an alabaster statue. She could see something like a tattoo or possibly a brand on the left side of his neck, partially hidden by the white collar of his shirt. His neck was still bent in that very uncomfortable-looking way, but now she realized that there was something familiar about his posture. Finally, it came to her: Birds sleep with their heads tucked under one wing. Using her imagination, she added large white wings to his sleeping form, and knew that she had gotten it right.

His fingernails were the color of charcoal, which she assumed must be natural; somehow she couldn't imagine him polishing them. He smelled like a rainy night, or a foggy morning; she hadn't noticed that the last time she'd seen him, probably because she had been preoccupied with more important matters.

As she was standing there studying him, he opened his eyes, the same impossibly blue eyes that she still sometimes saw in her nightmares.

"Hello, Katherine," he said, and she jumped back with a little cry, almost tripping over her own feet in her haste to put space between them. "I hope I'm not imposing on your hospitality," he continued, either ignoring her reaction or oblivious to it.

Katherine watched him stretch his neck and flex his shoulders in a way that made her think that he was stretching appendages that she couldn't see. Well, maybe he was. Finally, she found her voice.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"A cup of coffee would be nice." He stood and jumped down from his perch. "If it's not too much trouble."

She nodded wordlessly, and he followed her into the kitchen.

* * *


	2. Angels and Raptors

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 2

Angels and Raptors

* * *

Gabriel sat at the table, adding sugar to his coffee. Katherine leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him warily. 

He stirred his coffee, took a sip, and made a face.

"Why don't you sit down?" he invited, dumping in another heaping spoonful of white crystals. "Join me."

"I don't think so." She folded her arms across her chest. "You've got your cup of coffee. So what else do you want?"

"A doughnut?" he asked hopefully.

"That's not what I meant," she told him coldly. "Why are you back in my life, Gabriel?"

"Boy, you really get right to the point, don't you?" He took another sip of coffee. "All right. But it's a long story. You really should sit down."

"I think I'd rather stand, thanks."

He gave her an appraising look. "You don't have to be afraid, Katherine. I'm not here to hurt you. I've hurt too many good people as it is."

"Then why _are_ you here?"

"I need…" He hesitated, groping for the right words. "I _want_ to explain some things."

She snorted. "I didn't think you went around explaining yourself to us 'monkeys'."

"This is the _new_ me," he said ruefully. He gestured at the empty chair across from him. "Sit down and I'll tell you all about it."

With a sigh, Katherine poured herself a cup of coffee and sat.

* * *

As she listened to Gabriel talk, she tried to imagine what he must have been like when acting as God's Messenger. Somehow she just couldn't picture him appearing to Mary and announcing the coming birth of Jesus in that staccato voice of his. And how, she wondered, had he picked up that accent? To Katherine's ears, he sounded more like a New York City cab driver than the Angel of the Annunciation. 

"I learned a lot living as a human," he confided. "It's not as easy as it looks."

For the first time that night, she actually laughed. "I could have told you that a long time ago."

"I wouldn't have listened."

"I know," she agreed.

"I was arrogant," he admitted, staring down at his coffee cup. "And blinded by jealousy."

The phone rang. "Just a minute," she said, and rose to answer it.

It was Greg.

"Hey, Katie-Kate… how're you doing?" he asked. "I'm really sorry about dinner tonight."

"That's all right," she assured him. "I actually have company right now… someone I knew when I lived in Chimney Rock dropped by unexpectedly."

"Oh yeah? That's great. I'm glad you're not spending Friday night all alone. So what's her name?"

"_His_ name," she corrected, "is Gabriel."

"Old boyfriend?" he teased.

"No, never!" she said with feeling.

Greg laughed. "All right. Are you free tomorrow night? I'm really looking forward to that spaghetti dinner!"

"Wouldn't miss it. Hey, how's the Altman case going?"

He groaned. "Don't ask!"

She made a sympathetic sound. "Poor you!"

"Poor me," he agreed. "And poor Altman. I don't think I'm going to be able to get him off the hook."

"That's too bad. You really think he's innocent?"

"Yeah. Sometimes there's just no justice."

"Not in this world, anyway," she said, glancing at Gabriel. "Maybe in the next."

"I sure hope so," he agreed. "Well, I've got to get going. Just wanted to touch base with you."

"All right."

"Love you," he said.

She smiled. "Me too."

"Bye, Katie-Kate."

"Bye." She hung up the phone and went back to her seat at the table.

"So… you cook," Gabriel observed.

"Yeah, a little." She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. "You were saying…"

"I don't remember."

"Really?"

He surprised her by smiling. "Even angels sometimes lose their train of thought."

"I see." She had never seen him smile before, and was struck by how it transformed his features for the better. It made him more approachable, more human. She took a deep breath, hesitated, and spoke.

"Gabriel… why did you come here tonight?" His eyebrows went up. For a moment she was sure he wasn't going to answer, and so she decided to make a joke of it. "I know it wasn't for the coffee."

"It wasn't," he agreed. He sat quietly for a bit, drumming two fingers on the table as he thought. Katherine found herself wondering if all that caffeine and sugar was getting to him.

"Look… it's like this," he finally began, and she leaned forward in her seat to listen. "I was Upstairs… you know… talking to The Boss. I said, 'I really messed things up for a lot of people down there,' and He said 'You sure did,' and I said, 'Maybe I should do something about it, try to make amends,' and He said, 'Maybe you should.' See, He's real good like that, not telling you what you should do… just encouraging you to follow what your conscience says is right."

Katherine nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"And I realized that you probably didn't have really good feelings about us or The Boss after what happened in Chimney Rock, and I couldn't let you spend the rest of your life thinking that my brothers and I are all bad and that The Boss just lets us run wild, not caring what we do or who we hurt. Because He's not like that. Look what He did to me – got Michael to turn me into a human just to teach me a lesson. And it worked." He gave another rare smile. "I'm a changed seraph, let me tell you. I see things a lot differently now."

Katherine's head was spinning. She closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. "All right," she said, not looking up. "So. You want to make things right between us. That's why you're here?"

"Yeah. That's pretty much it."

"Great. OK." She sighed. "This is a lot for me to absorb."

"I understand. Maybe we should continue our conversation later, after you've had time to think about all this."

"That would be _wonderful_," she said, rubbing her temples. "I feel like my head is going to explode. You talk about all this stuff – 'The Boss' – so casually..." She gave a nervous little laugh. "It's kind of freaking me out a little."

"Yeah. Sorry about that," he said apologetically. "Sometimes I forget."

"You didn't talk like this when you were human, did you?"

"Of course," he said with a shrug.

"People must've thought you were crazy."

"They did," he agreed. He didn't seem very concerned about it. "That was their problem, not mine. I didn't know any other way to be… and _I_ knew that I wasn't crazy."

"I wouldn't go that far," she said before she could stop herself.

He cocked his head at her, just like a bird. "Do you think I'm crazy, Katherine?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested in her answer.

"I used to," she admitted. "Now I don't know _what_ to think about you."

He nodded once, satisfied, and stood. "I'd better take off," he said. "It's late."

"Come on," she said, also standing. "I'll walk you out."

When they reached the front door, Gabriel hesitated. "Katherine… are you still afraid of me?"

"I…" She thought about it. "I'm not sure."

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I wish I could believe that."

He reached out and tilted her chin up. "I've never lied to you," he reminded her, looking her right in the eye. "Have I?"

She considered it. "I guess not."

"I'm an angel, the Messenger of God," he continued firmly. "I never lie."

She nodded. "All right."

Seeming satisfied, he released her and moved away. "I'll see you later."

"Gabriel – "

He stopped, turned. "Yes?"

"You should smile more often."

"Hmm," he said, and vanished into the darkness beyond her porch light.

* * *

The next day, Katherine spent an hour preparing her Nana's famous homemade spaghetti sauce. While it simmered on the stove, she sat on the living room sofa with her PowerBook, reading about angels. 

Gabriel, as it turned out, was a very busy angel. In addition to his roles as the Angel of Death and the Angel of the Annunciation, he was also the Angel of Incarnation, the Angel of Consolation, the Angel of Mercy and the Angel of Childbirth. Those last three these things made her laugh out loud at the thought.

She laughed even harder when one website assured her that Gabriel was the only female angel. She made a mental note to show him that particular website the next time she saw him; she had an evil desire to see how he'd react to the news of his sex change.

Next, she did a web search for birds. The only birds with eyes on the front of their heads are raptors, she learned. _Birds of prey… or in this case, of _pray, she thought with a giggle.

_Most birds have a _uropygial_, or preen gland, _she read,_ located on the upper surface of the rump and covered by feathers. The gland secretes oils used by the bird when preening. These oils are believed to help waterproof feathers and condition exposed skin. The oils may also have substances which control bacterial and fungal infections, as well as contain vitamin D. _

She tried to imagine Gabriel preening himself and decided that a mental picture like that just wouldn't fit in her brain. She glanced up at the clock on the upper right side of the computer screen and saw that it was close to five o'clock. Where had the time gone? Had she really spent nearly five hours reading about angels and raptors? No wonder she had a headache!

Greg would be arriving for his promised spaghetti dinner soon, she realized. First she would do something about her awful headache, and then she would go check on her spaghetti sauce.

With a sigh, she stood and headed upstairs in search of some aspirin.

* * *

Katherine took a sip of red wine as she stirred the tomato sauce with a wooden spoon. She took a small portion on the spoon, blew on it to cool it, and cautiously sampled it. 

"It smells very nice, Katherine."

She gave a little shriek and dropped the spoon, which clattered to the stovetop in a splotch of red sauce.

She turned around to see Gabriel perched on her kitchen table, his folded hands resting on his knees. "I just can't wait to taste it," he continued calmly, as though a person appearing out of thin air was the most normal thing in the world. _Well_, she reflected,_ to him it probably _was.

"When you said you wanted to continue our conversation later, I didn't realize that you meant _tonight_," she said, picking up the spoon and wiping the sauce off the stovetop with a dishtowel.

"Fine," he said, and she heard him jump to the ground. "We can talk about something else." He walked over to the counter, took a wineglass out of the cupboard and poured himself a glass of wine. He raised the glass to her in a brief toast and downed half of it in one gulp.

"Help yourself, Gabriel," she said ironically.

He walked over to the stove, picked up the wooden spoon and sniffed it briefly. He stuck out his tongue and licked it thoroughly, and then he put it right back in the sauce.

"Hey!" she protested, snatching up the spoon. "That's disgusting!"

He shrugged and moved away to poke at the salads that were sitting on the counter.

During the course of their conversation the previous night, Katherine's feelings had run the gamut from terror to wariness to dazed numbness. Now she was experiencing an emotion that she had never in her wildest dreams thought she would apply to the Archangel Gabriel: annoyance.

"Come on, leave that alone!" she pleaded as he bent close to one of the salads, sniffing.

"I'll have this one," he decided, fishing a tomato out of the salad he'd been investigating and popping it into his mouth.

"I didn't make that for _you_," she told him rather ungraciously. She saw the surprise register on his face as her words finally sunk in.

"You were expecting someone else."

"Yeah. Believe it or not, I _do_ have a social life aside from angelic visitors."

"Ahh, you mean I'm not the only man in your life? Katherine…" He clutched at his chest in a melodramatic fashion. "I'm crushed."

She gave him a look that spoke volumes.

"Huh," he said, and poured himself more wine. The doorbell rang. "Must be your dinner guest," he observed.

"Probably. And don't drink all the wine," she admonished as she left to answer the door.

"Hi Katie-Kate," Greg said when she opened the door. He was Gabriel's complete opposite; short and stocky, well-tanned and blond. He was dressed casually in a pale pink shirt and tan pants. "I missed you last night," he said as she leaned up to kiss him. He followed her into the foyer and suddenly sneezed loudly.

"Bless you!" she said. "Oh… that reminds me – Gabriel's here."

"Your friend from last night?"

"Yeah. He dropped by again a little bit ago."

"Does he always just show up like that?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Greg sneezed again. "Bless you again! Are you getting a cold?"

"I don't think so," he said, following her into the kitchen.

"Gabriel, this is Greg. Greg, this is Gabriel," she said, shooting the angel a warning look that said _be nice_.

"It's wonderful to meet you," Gabriel said, extending the hand that wasn't holding the wineglass. "Gregory."

"Yeah, likewise," Greg replied, shaking hands. He sneezed again, explosively. "Geeze, excuse me!" he apologized. "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight!"

"Allergies?" Katherine suggested as she stirred the sauce.

"Doubt it," Greg said. "I'm only allergic to one thing that I know of."

"And what's that?" she asked.

"Birds. But you don't have a bird, do you?"

"Noooo…" she said slowly, glancing at Gabriel. "Not… um… _exactly_."

"Well, if you went out and got a bird, just tell me. I'll dose myself with Benadryl before I come over."

"That might be a good idea," she agreed. "Even though I don't have a bird," she added hastily. Gabriel was carefully studying the ceiling.

"OK, then," Greg said, looking from Katherine to Gabriel and back again. Clearly something was going on that he wasn't hearing about. Suddenly, he sneezed again.

"You know, I may have some Benadryl upstairs in my medicine cabinet," she recalled. "Would you like some?"

"That would be great," he said, wiping his nose with the back of one hand. "So, when's dinner?"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The information found in this chapter was gleaned from several different sources. 

For information on angels in general and the Archangel Gabriel in particular, I consulted the book _Angels A to Z_ by James R. Lewis and Evelyn Dorothy Oliver.

I also looked at The Catholic Encyclopedia's website about St. Gabriel the Archangel at and the Wikipedia entry for the Archangel Gabriel at en. about raptors can be found at the Sea World _Birds of Prey_ website at That site was very useful to me, and I even quoted directly from it at one point (the bit about preen glands).

* * *


	3. Gabriel, Blow Your Horn!

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 3

Gabriel, Blow Your Horn!

* * *

After fetching some Benadryl and a box of Kleenex for Greg, Katherine set about making another salad and setting a third place at the table, for it appeared that Gabriel was staying for dinner.

She came back into the kitchen, where she found the angel standing at the counter finishing off another glass of wine. She picked up the wine bottle, shook it, and glared at him.

"Gabriel, I asked you not to drink all the wine… now we're not going to have any for dinner!"

"Ah, relax," he said. "You get too worked up about stuff." He kissed two fingers and waved his hand over the empty wine bottle. Immediately, Katherine felt its weight increase.

"What – " she began.

He took the bottle from her and filled her empty glass. "A little trick I picked up from The Boss's Son," he explained, setting the bottle on the counter. She gaped at him, speechless.

"Oh, am I… " He paused, searching for the term she had used the previous night. "Freaking you out again?"

"Yeah, just a little!" she said with a nervous laugh.

"Sorry." He clinked his glass against hers and drank.

Greg walked in from the other room, wiping his nose on a Kleenex.

"Feeling better?" Katherine asked him.

"Yeah, a lot!" He noticed their full wineglasses. "Hey, you two – save some for me!"

Katherine burst out laughing.

* * *

Naturally, Gabriel simply assumed that the seat at the head of the dining room table was for him and sat down accordingly. Without saying a word, Katherine swapped the salads around so that the angel now had the one that he had been poking at earlier.

As they were about to begin eating, Gabriel stood, kissed two fingers, and waved his hand briefly over the table, murmuring in another language.

"What was that?" Greg asked as Gabriel sat down.

"A blessing," he replied.

"Thank you, Gabriel," Katherine said, raising her eyebrows at Greg.

"Yeah, thanks," he added. He picked up his wineglass and drank. "So, Gabriel… how do you and Katie know each other?"

"Now that's a very long story." _Lawng stahwry._

Greg smiled. "What part of New York are you from?"

Gabriel looked at Greg as though he were crazy. "I'm not from New York." _New Yawk._

"Really? You sure sound like it."

"Huh," Gabriel said.

"How's the Altman case going?" Katherine asked in an obvious bid to change the subject. "Greg is a defense attorney," she explained to Gabriel.

"It's going horribly," Greg replied, winding spaghetti around his fork.

"He's guilty, you know… Gregory," Gabriel suddenly announced.

"What?"

"He's guilty," the angel repeated. "He raped that little girl. Not only that, but he's raped and murdered four other little girls that no one knows about. He would've killed little Rebecca too if she hadn't managed to crawl out through that broken basement window."

"I don't – " Greg began.

"What I don't understand is how you can defend someone like that," Gabriel went on, leaning forward and studying Greg closely. "Is there something lacking in your character that makes you think raping and murdering little girls is OK?"  
"Gabriel, stop it!" Katherine said, appalled.

"That's all right," Greg said, waving her objection away. "It's a fair question… I guess… but I don't know where he's getting his information about my client!"

"I have my sources," Gabriel said.

"Yeah… all right, let's assume for the sake of argument that you're right about Altman. Thing is, in this country everyone has the right to be represented in court by an attorney, no matter what they're accused of doing. And it's my job to defend my client to the best of my ability, even if he did do all those things you say he did – which I don't believe, by the way."

Gabriel began to speak, but Katherine overrode him. "And it's a good thing we have laws like that, isn't it? Not everyone who's indicted is actually guilty of a crime."

"That's very true," Greg agreed, taking a sip of wine. "But enough about my job. Gabriel… what do _you_ do?"

"I'm a seraph," he replied, and Katherine groaned.

"You _are_?" Greg leaned forward in his seat, interested. "And what's _that_?"

"He's a messenger," Katherine said quickly.

"Yeah, sometimes," Gabriel agreed. "Recently, not so much."

"Oh, you're one of those guys on those bikes," Greg said.

"No."

"All right…" There was an awkward silence. "So, who do you work for?" Greg tried again. "Is it a big name, or a private – "

"I work for God."

Greg raised his eyebrows at Katherine. "Oh. Riiiight…"

Katherine remembered what Gabriel had said the night before about people thinking he was crazy: _That was their problem, not mine._ She tried to think of a way to change the subject.

"You know, Greg," she said, "I was watching _Law and Order_ the other night, and Jack McCoy said something that I didn't understand."

"Oh? What?"

"Gregory," Gabriel said suddenly. "Do you think your justice system is truly just?"

"Of course," Greg replied automatically.

"But how can it be, when it allows people like you to exploit legal loopholes that allow the guilty to walk free on technicalities?" Gabriel leaned back in his chair and looked very interested in Greg's answer.

"If I can prevent even one innocent person from going to jail, I've done my job," Greg said.

Gabriel frowned. "But not everyone you defend is innocent, are they?"

"As far as I know, they are."

"But they're _not_. Altman isn't."

Greg shrugged. "So you say."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "I _know_. Trust me, Gregory."

Greg laughed. "Trust you? I don't even _know_ you!"

"But I know _you_, Gregory."

"Oh yeah? How do you know me?"

"OK, that's it," Katherine said, standing. "Enough, you two!"

"What would you do," Gabriel continued, ignoring her, "if you knew for certain that Altman raped that little girl, raped and murdered those other little girls. Would you still defend him?"

"Yes, because that's _my job_!" Greg said hotly. "It's my job whether I like it or not!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "Huh," he said, and stood. "Let me help you with those dishes, Katherine."  
She glared at him and began gathering up plates.

* * *

"Just leave him alone, all right?" Katherine said angrily, taking another rinsed plate from Gabriel and putting it in the dishwasher. "He's not a bad guy. In fact, he's one of the better ones."

"He's not worthy of you," Gabriel said calmly, handing her another plate.

"Well, that's not your decision to make," she retorted.

"Unfortunately."

"And why do you say that?"

He shrugged. "You could do better. _Much_ better."

"You don't say." She watched as he rinsed another plate. He couldn't possibly… No, it was too silly to contemplate. And too scary. She forced herself to say it, and to say it as lightly as possible.

"So… Gabriel… did you have someone _else_ in mind for me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

He stared at her in puzzlement, completely oblivious to what she was implying. "No."

She sighed with relief. "Good!"

"But you deserve better than Gregory," he added.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gabe," Greg said, walking in from the living room.

"Why… don't mention it, Gregory," Gabriel said, handing another plate to Katherine.

Greg held up a videotape. A strip of chewed and twisted brown plastic was hanging out of the front. "Sorry, Katie-Kate. Looks like your VCR finally went to that Great Electronic Junkyard in the sky."

"Oh well," she sighed.

He grinned at her, like a little boy with a secret. "I brought you a present, though."

"You did?" she asked, smiling.

"It's in the car. Hang on a second, and I'll get it."

"Aaaah, it's a DVD player," Gabriel said as soon as Greg had left.

"Gabriel!" She shook her head in exasperation. "Why did you ruin it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Yes you do!"

"All right. I can't stand the thought of that… that… that _sleazy little monkey_ worming his way into your heart with his insincere smile and his expensive gifts!"

"'Sleazy little monkey', huh? I'll remember that!"

"Yeah, you do that! Because that's exactly what he is!" he retorted, stabbing a finger in the air for emphasis. "You mark my words!" He handed her another dish and she glared at him, holding it like she wanted to smash it over his head.

"Fight nice, kids," Greg said mildly as he walked into the kitchen. He was carrying a large gift-wrapped box.

"Oh, that's an awfully big box… Gregory," Gabriel said innocently. Katherine gave him a killing look, which he ignored. "Gosh… I wonder what it is."

Katherine unwrapped her present and exclaimed over it, rewarding Greg with many kisses. "This is great! Now I won't have to use my computer to watch DVDs!" Greg happily went off into the living room to install it.

"Gabriel, you'd better not make any more trouble tonight," she said as soon as Greg left. "I mean it."

"Whaaaat?" he asked innocently. "Who's making trouble?"

"No more grilling him about his job… or anything else! Be _nice_!" She suddenly remembered that she was talking to the Angel of Death, and amended her statement. "Or at least be civil. Can you do that? Can you be civil for a few more hours?"

"Does that mean I can't tell him how he's going to die?" Gabriel wondered.

Katherine closed her eyes. "Yes, Gabriel. No messing with his head. Period." Gabriel looked disappointed. "Please… just…" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Just _behave yourself_, all right?"

"Of course, Katherine," ha agreed tranquilly, and followed her into the living room.

"Here, Gabriel – look at this," she told him, motioning for him to sit on the sofa. She picked up her PowerBook, opened it and pulled up the webpage that insisted that Gabriel was the only female angel. "Here," she said, and passed him the computer.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning at the screen.

"That's a computer, Sport," Greg said helpfully from his position on the floor. He crawled behind the entertainment center just in time to miss the nasty look that Gabriel directed his way.

"I thought you'd be interested in that website," Katherine said, grinning wickedly.

"Huh," he said, and directed his attention to the screen. "The only known female angel," he read aloud, "is…. _what_?" He looked up at Katherine. "Who writes this stuff?"

She shrugged, giggling. "Beats me."

"Look at this!" he said in an outraged tone, pointing at the screen. "Look what they wrote!"

"I know, Gabriel," she said, still helpless with laughter. "I showed it to _you_, remember?"

"What's so funny?" Greg asked from his position behind the television set. "Gah! Why don't they write these instructions so a normal person can understand them?"

"You wouldn't get the joke," Katherine told him, addressing his first question.

Gabriel was still staring at the screen and muttering under his breath. "I should find them and – "

"We're all set," Greg announced, crawling out from behind the entertainment center and standing, stretching. "Go ahead, turn on the TV and let's see if it works."

"I should probably go," Gabriel said, standing and handing the computer to Katherine. She shut it and put it back on the coffee table.

"You had a lot of wine," she reminded him. "Are you OK to fly?"

"Of course!" he assured her. "Don't you worry about me!"

Greg was looking at them like they were both crazy.

"What?" Gabriel demanded.

"I thought the saying is, 'twenty-four hours from bottle to throttle'," Greg said.

Gabriel looked at Katherine. "What's he talking about?"

"Uh, you're not supposed to fly an airplane after you've been drinking," she explained, mentally kicking herself for her little slip.

"What kind of plane do you fly, Gabe?" Greg asked.

"I don't fly a plane."

Greg frowned. "But I thought – "

"Hey, look, Gabriel – Greg brought over some DVDs," Katherine said brightly. "Want to see a movie? Look," she continued with a laugh, holding up a DVD. "It's _City of Angels_. Bet you'll _love_ that."

"I've seen it," Gabriel deadpanned. "A couple times."

"Oh, sorry. How about _Lord of the Rings_?" she asked.

"That's a good one," Greg added.

"Ahhh, that guy who plays Strider reminds me of someone I don't like," Gabriel said. "You met him once, Katherine… that time we were at Old Woman Butte."

Katherine thought about this. "Ohhh," she said with a shudder. "Yeah. I don't like him either. Forget that one." She put it back in the bag.

Greg dug around in the bag and pulled out a movie. "_It's a Wonderful Life_," he said. "How 'bout that?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Sure, whatever," he agreed, sitting on the sofa.

Katherine loaded the DVD while Greg flopped down next to Gabriel and picked up the PowerBook.

"I thought you wanted to watch this," Katherine said, frowning as Greg opened the computer.

"I've seen it a million times, Katie-Kate. You and Gabriel watch – I have to check in with my office anyway."

* * *

"So, what did you think, Gabriel?" Katherine asked in a teasing tone. He gave her a look that made her laugh.

"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings," Greg said, not looking up from the computer.

"That's not how it works," Gabriel said.

"Yeah?" Greg asked, shutting the PowerBook and setting it on the coffee table. "So how's it work, Gabe?"

"Wow, I'm really tired," Katherine said, yawning loudly. "Let's go to bed, Greg."

"You know I won't say no!" Greg said with a grin.

"Gregory… you don't know how lucky you are," Gabriel said seriously. "Being with a woman… ahhh..." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savoring a memory. "It's like _dying_."

"And how would _you_ know?" Katherine asked pointedly.

"I've been with a few women in my day," Gabriel announced smugly. "Whenever I had the cash."

Katherine was shocked. "You… _what_?"

"Whoa – TMI, Sport!" Greg said, standing.

Gabriel frowned. "TMI?" he repeated, puzzled.

"Too Much Information," Katherine told him. "And yeah, it _is_ TMI. Thank you for sharing, Gabriel."

"Any time," he said with a shrug.

"Are you going to stay here, or…?" She gestured expansively. "If you want to sleep, I'll make up the spare room."

"Nah… thanks, Katherine… but I don't sleep."

"You were sleeping last night," she reminded him, and frowned. "Weren't you?"

"Yeah… well… it's a bad habit I picked up." He shrugged. "I'm trying to quit."

"Good luck with that," Greg said, yawning.

"All right," Katherine said. "Good night, Gabriel." She took Greg's hand and they walked towards the stairs together.

"Good night," he replied absently, picking up her computer.

* * *

Katherine was jolted awake by a sound from downstairs. Beside her, Greg rolled over and groaned.

"What the hell is that?" he asked muzzily.

"Oh God," she moaned, pulling the covers over her head. "He's playing the trumpet."

"It's four thirty in the morning!"

"So go tell him to stop!"

"He's _your_ weirdo friend," Greg said, giving her a poke in the ribs. "You go."

She giggled. "No, you!"

"You!"

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" She sat up in bed and shouted, "Gabriel, _knock it off!_"

The racket from downstairs continued.

"Gabriel, blow your horn!" Greg said, laughing.

"Oh my God!" Katherine said, turning white. Without another word, she jumped out of bed, snatched up her bathrobe and ran out of the room.

She came pounding down the stairs like a madwoman, tying her robe shut as she ran.

The archangel was perched on the coffee table, her PowerBook resting near his feet. He held his trumpet to his lips, preparing to let loose another blast.

"Gabriel!" Katherine shouted. She had one hand on her chest and was breathing hard.

He lowered the trumpet and looked up at her, puzzled. "Good morning, Katherine. You're up early."

She gaped at him, incredulous. "You're down here blowing the horn for the Last Judgment, and – "

He blinked. "What?"

"It's time for the Last Judgment!"

He frowned. "No it's not."

"Then why are you blowing your horn?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because you're supposed to play it on Judgment Day! You know, 'Gabriel blow your horn'." She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Why am _I_ explaining this to _you_?"

"I don't know." He pointed at her computer. "It stopped working."

She shook her head, trying to follow this shift in the conversation. "It… huh?"

"It stopped working," he repeated.

"You probably need to recharge the battery, Sport," a new voice said. Katherine turned to see Greg coming down the steps, dressed in sweatpants and a tee shirt.

"Battery?" Gabriel asked, puzzled.

Greg put an arm around Katherine and smiled down at Gabriel. "Laptops won't run on battery power forever, you know."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, and he made a noise that sounded like _hhhnnnuhh_. He put his trumpet down next to the computer, stood and jumped off the table.

"Good morning, Gregory," he said, moving very close to the other man. He gave his head a shake, tossing his sleek black hair.

"Ah_-chooo!_"

Katherine sighed. "I'll get the Benadryl," she said.

Gabriel moved away, looking quite pleased with himself. Katherine passed him on her way upstairs. "Oh, you're _terrible_," she whispered, trying not to smile.

"Yeah, I know."

She laughed.

* * *


	4. Simon Says: Part II

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 4

"Simon Says: Part II"

* * *

On Monday, Katherine saw her third grade class safely onto their busses and then went back into the empty school.

She wasn't surprised when she entered her classroom and found Simon perched on the back of her chair, just as he'd been on Friday afternoon. He was even reading the same book.

"Anything interesting in there?" she asked.

"A lot of the stuff in this book is just plain wrong," he replied without looking up.

"Oh really?" she asked, amused.

"Yes." He shut the book and tossed it on the desk. "Especially the history."

"I'll keep that in mind," she assured him as he jumped down from his perch. "So, what's up?"

"I see your attitude has changed a bit since our last conversation," he observed mildly. "So, did you have a nice weekend?"

She gave him a look. "You know very well what my weekend was like, don't you?"

He couldn't resist smiling. "I _did_ try to warn you," he reminded her a bit smugly.

She sighed. "Yeah, I know. And I should've listened. Satisfied?"

"I will be if you listen to me now."

"Of course," she said, sitting down at her desk. "Have a seat."

Instead of trying to squeeze himself into one of the third grader-sized desks, Simon hopped up and perched on the edge. In seeming defiance of gravity, the little desk didn't tip over under his weight.

"There are some things you should know," he began. He steepled his fingers and sat silently in thought for a moment. At last, he spoke. "Gabriel is a very damaged individual."

She snorted. "I could have guessed that on my own!"

"I'm sure you could have, but I'm not sure that you grasp the implications. Think, Katherine. Think what would happen if the Angel of Death were to have the equivalent of a nervous breakdown."

The color drained from her face, and she covered her mouth with one hand. "Dear God…" she whispered, her eyes huge. "You're not saying – "

"Gabriel has done many terrible things… I'm sure I don't have to tell _you_ that." She shook her head, and he continued. "But he's repented and been forgiven. The problem is, he can't forgive _himself_."

"Guilt," she said, understanding. "I know it can eat humans alive, but angels…?"

Simon gave her a gentle smile. "We're not all that different, you know… humans and angels. We both have free will, and the ability to commit acts of great kindness… or of unspeakable horror."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She looked up at him. "So, what do you want me to do? Find a qualified shrink for Gabriel?"

He laughed. "I doubt one exists!"

She thought about it and laughed too. "Yeah, you're probably right. Seriously, though… what do you expect me to do with this information, Simon? Besides scaring the hell out of me, is there a reason for telling me that the Angel of Death is this close – " She held up her thumb and forefinger. " – to losing his marbles?"

"We're hoping that you can help him hold it together," he told her.

"Me?" she asked, incredulous. "Are you sure that _Gabriel_ is the one who's losing his marbles here?"

"Katherine, you are one of the people he hurt. He needs your forgiveness."

"What about all the other people he hurt?" she asked bitterly.

"They're all dead," Simon said frankly. "Dead or insane."

She exhaled explosively and ran a hand through her hair. "And I'm supposed to deal with all this _how_, exactly?"

"Thomas Daggett believes in you," he told her. "He thinks you're the one for the job… for 'talking Gabriel down from the ledge,' as he put it."

"Thomas? But I thought he's – "

"Dead. Yes, he is." He waited a moment for his words to sink in.

"So… he's up there in Heaven… with you… and you talk to him…"

"Exactly."

She shook her head. "I really have to start going to church again." She thought for a minute. "Has he talked to Gabriel?"

"Gabriel won't talk to him… I think it's the guilt. He killed Thomas, you know."

Katherine's eyes widened. "No… he didn't tell me that. You know, Simon… I don't know if I can deal with all of this."

"But you must," he told her. "For whatever reason, Gabriel finds solace in your company."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because when he returns from being with you, he's in a much better way… even happy, almost."

"Wait a minute…" A new, horrifying thought suddenly occurred to her. "Are you trying to tell me that Gabriel's in love with me?"

Simon laughed. "No, Katherine – nothing like that."

"Oh, thank you _God_!" she exclaimed with feeling. "I really, _really_ could not deal with _that_!"

"He doesn't know it, but he needs for you to be his friend, to help him pull himself together." Simon met her eye. "Can you do that, Katherine? Because if you can't…" He didn't need to complete the thought; she knew what the stakes were, and an insane Angel of Death didn't even bear thinking about.

She swallowed hard. "I'll do my best," she promised.

He smiled. "That's all we can ask of you… or of anyone." He jumped down from the desk. "Thank you, Katherine. I knew you wouldn't let us down."

He touched two fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss in blessing before walking out the door.

Katherine put her head down on her folded arms. "Why me?" she groaned. "Out of all the people in the Universe, _why me_?"

* * *

When Katherine got home, she put away the two boxes of Benadryl she had purchased on her way home. Then she went upstairs to look at her guest bedroom.

No one had ever actually slept in that room – she mostly used it for storage – and so she spent several hours getting it ready to be occupied. Once she had found alternate storage for the things she'd stowed in there, she stripped the bed and put on fresh sheets and a clean comforter.

She had just finished all of these tasks and sat down at her computer to check her e-mail when the phone rang. With a sigh, she rose to answer it.

"Hi, Katie-Kate," Greg said. "How was your day?"

"Greg… you really don't want to know!"

"What happened?" he asked, a frown of concern in his voice.

"Simon happened," she said wearily. "And I'm really stressed out."

"I can tell. Who's Simon?"

"It's a long story… a _really_ long story."

"All right, you can tell me later."

Even though he couldn't see her, she smiled. "Thanks. Listen, Gabriel might be around a lot… is that OK?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… he's going through a bad time right now, and Simon said – "

"So this Simon's a mutual friend?"

"Actually, he's… um… he's Gabriel's brother. "

"Gabriel has a brother? Is he a weirdo too?"

"Yeah, they're _all_ weirdoes. Now listen. He told me that Gabriel is – "

"Oh hey," he interrupted. "I have to go. I have a call on the other line I have to take."

She blinked. "Oh. All right."

"It's about the Altman case," he apologized.

"That's fine," she said. "I'm really too tired to talk right now anyway."

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised. "Love you.

"Me too," she replied, but he had already hung up. She went back to the sofa and sat down with her computer. She went to and looked up books about coping with guilt, found two that looked promising, and placed an order.

A minute later, the doorbell rang. _Now who could _that_ be?_ She wondered. _Could Gabriel have finally figured out what doorbells are for?_

When she opened the door she saw that it was an angel, but it certainly wasn't the one she expected… nor was it one she had ever wanted to see again.

It was Lucifer, with his dark goatee and his slicked back dark blond hair and long flowing black coat.

There was a time when she would have been terrified to open her door and find him standing there on her porch. That time had long since passed, and she was slightly surprised to find that she was becoming inured to angels showing up in her life uninvited, even the Prince of Darkness himself.

"Oh for Heaven's sake, what do _you_ want?" she asked, brushing her hair out of her face and glaring at him in a very unwelcoming way.

Lucifer's piercing blue eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he managed to recover himself.

"Katherine," he said in that sweetly sinister voice of his. He steepled his fingers in front of him. "It's so good to see you again!" She made a noncommittal sound. "May I come in?"

Wordlessly, she stood aside for him to enter.

"Thank you," he said as he passed her. "I couldn't have entered if you hadn't invited me."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Thanks for telling me." She slammed the front door. "What do you want?" she repeated.

"Not much for small talk, are you?" He asked in that familiar mocking singsong. He followed her into the living room and sprawled down on the sofa. "Nice place," he observed, glancing around. "Cozy."

She stood over him, her arms folded across her chest. "Thanks," she gritted out. "Is there a reason you're here?"

"I was just in the neighborhood…" She gave him an exasperated look, and he laughed. "They're just using you, you know."

"Who?"

"Simon… God… all of them," he said, waving an arm expansively. "They didn't show up when you needed them back in Chimney Rock… no, it was _me_ who hauled your bacon out of the fire that time, wasn't it?"

She glared at him, but didn't comment.

"They didn't care about you or your precious little Mary… but now that _they_ need _you_, they expect you to rearrange your entire life for one psychotic archangel."

"Simon didn't say anything about _you_," she said before she could stop herself.

To her surprise, he smiled. "I'm not psychotic, my dear. I'm perfectly sane." His smile widened. "Terrifying, isn't it?"

"You've got me there," she agreed.

"Sit down, Katherine," he said in a gentle voice. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"I don't trust you," she said, still standing. "Prince of Lies."

"My reputation precedes me," he said with a sigh, sounding pained.

She shrugged. "That's the problem with lying all the time. When you finally want to tell the truth, no one will believe you."

"Point." He leaned forward on the sofa, his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. "You owe me one, Katherine," he said, watching her carefully. "You owe me for saving Mary's life."

"I don't owe you one damn thing," she spat. "You didn't help us because you cared about us _or_ about Mary… you did it for your own selfish reasons. There was nothing at all altruistic about it!"

"Doesn't matter. The ends justify the means," he pointed out.

"Fine," she agreed, nodding once, sharply. "I owe you one."

He smiled happily. "I knew you'd see it my way, Katherine,"

"I'll make you a cup of coffee, and then we're even," she said, and walked out of the room.

Lucifer sat there for a moment, astounded. Finally, he stood. "Well… it's not quite what I had in mind, but it's a start," he murmured to himself, and followed her into the kitchen.

* * *

Lucifer sat at the table, adding sugar to his coffee. Katherine leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him warily.

"Why are you letting Simon and his God use you like this?" he asked.

Katherine folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. "Why shouldn't I help Gabriel?"

"Because _he's not your problem_, Katherine," the fallen angel pointed out reasonably. "And what kind of God would ask you to play nursemaid to someone who brought you nothing but pain and terror?" He leaned forward in his seat. "Think, Katherine!"

"If God has forgiven Gabriel, then that's good enough for me," she told him.

Lucifer frowned. "What kind of God – " he began.

"If God can forgive Gabriel for all of the terrible things he did, then He can certainly forgive _my_ mundane little sins! And that gives me great comfort, believe me!"

Lucifer sighed. This obviously wasn't going to be easy. "Katherine – " His voice broke off, and he glanced around, sniffing the air.

There was a flash of blinding white light and a deafening noise like an eagle's cry. Katherine caught the briefest glimpse of enormous white wings, and then Gabriel was there, plummeting down from the ceiling, slamming into Lucifer and knocking him out of his seat and onto the floor.

The two archangels rolled around and around on the floor, and Katherine heard noises like bird cries and the low growl of a lion.

"Stop it!" she screamed.

They ignored her.

They rolled around on her kitchen floor, knocking over the chairs and the trash can. A kicking foot connected with the baker's rack in the corner, bringing the whole thing crashing down in a pile of pots and pans and various knickknacks. She suddenly saw the flash of a knife, but she couldn't see whose hand held it. Now she was worried; someone could really get hurt.

"Stop it!" she screamed again, to no avail.

She turned on the water in the sink, grabbed the sprayer, and pointed it at the battling archangels. _"Stop it stop it stop it stop it!"_ she shrieked hysterically, pressing the trigger on the sprayer and discharging a spray of icy cold water that quickly drenched the two combatants.

The fight stopped; both angels lay on their backs, panting, staring up at her in disbelief. When she was certain that hostilities weren't going to resume, she returned the sprayer to the sink and turned off the water.

"I'll take that," Katherine said coldly, bending down to slide the knife with its long curvy blade out of Lucifer's unresisting grasp. "_And_ that," she added, divesting Gabriel of a wicked-looking little dagger. "Now get up," she continued, placing the weapons on the counter. "And let me look at you."

* * *

Katherine's kitchen absolutely reeked of wet bird.

The two dripping archangels sat glaring at each other across the kitchen table; Lucifer held an ice pack against the side of his head, while Gabriel had one pressed against his right eye.

"What in the world am I going to do with you two?" Katherine asked rhetorically, shaking her head. She sighed. "Where's Simon when I need him?"

"Right here," a new voice said, and she turned to see Simon perched on the counter, right next to where she stood. Normally, this would have unnerved her, but under the circumstances –

"Look what they did to my kitchen, Simon," she said in a conversational tone. "Totally wrecked it."

"Imagine what they did to Upstairs," Simon said, matching her light, casual tone.

"I don't even want to think about it," she replied. She picked up Lucifer's knife and studied it as she spoke. "And these little toys of theirs…" She picked up Gabriel's dagger in her other hand. "Very dangerous. I'll be keeping them, of course," she continued, tucking them both in the belt on her jeans.

"Spoken like a third grade teacher," Simon observed mildly.

She grinned at him. "When I take things away from my kids at school, I tell them that they can have their stuff back if their parents come get it."

"That's a good policy," Simon said.

"I think so. And I don't see any reason to change that policy for a couple of seraphs who _act_ like children."

Simon nodded. "Neither do I."

"Seraph_im_," Gabriel corrected. "The plural of 'seraph' is 'seraph_im_'… _Teach_."

"Why thank you, Gabriel," she said, beaming brightly at him. "I'll keep that in mind." She turned back to Simon. "Another thing… I think those two should clean up my kitchen. Look at the mess they made!"

"That sounds reasonable to me," Simon agreed, steepling his fingers in front of his lips as he spoke. "I'll see to it."

"I think I have a concussion!" Lucifer protested.

Katherine shrugged. "I'm sure you'll get over it," she told him without sympathy. She smiled sweetly at the two dripping archangels. "I'm going to bed. When I get up tomorrow morning, this kitchen had better be _exactly_ the way it was before, and you – " she pointed at Lucifer " – had better be gone. And you – " she pointed at Gabriel "had better be either gone or in my spare room, not making one sound, because I won't be in the mood to deal with you just yet."

They both opened their mouths to protest.

"I'm an asset to Heaven," she told them. "Simon pointed that out to me earlier today. So _I_ get to say how things get done around here. Understand?"

They stared at her, astounded.

"Good night, Gentlemen," she said, and walked out.

Gabriel and Lucifer began to speak simultaneously.

"Uh uh," the red-hair angel said, shaking a finger at them, silencing their protests. "You're going to clean this up." He grinned at them. "Simon says."

* * *


	5. Lunch With Lucifer

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 5

"Lunch with Lucifer"

* * *

When Katherine came out of her bedroom the next morning, she smelled coffee… coffee and something burning.

"_Now_ what?" she muttered under her breath as she walked down the steps. _That had better not be brimstone I smell – _

"Good morning, Katherine," Gabriel said when she walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning," she replied warily. She saw that both he and his clothing were now completely dry, and that he had a souvenir from the previous night: a blackened right eye that was already fading. "How's your eye this morning?"

"Better," he said with a short nod. "Thanks for asking."

She glanced around at her kitchen. "Well. You two did a great job. I can't even tell that you had a knock down, drag out fight with Lucifer in here." She rubbed her eyes. "And _that's_ a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say."

"I made coffee," he announced, holding out a saucepan filled with brown liquid. "And some eggs… but… they didn't turn out so good," he apologized, directing her attention to the stove.

There was a skillet there, its bottom crusted with some unidentifiable black charcoal substance that may or may not have once been eggs. She would just have to take his word for it.

"Thank you, Gabriel," she said, taking two coffee mugs down from the cupboard. "Don't worry about the eggs… it's the thought that counts."

She sat at the table and he poured out the coffee. She picked up a spoon and stirred it, frowning.

"I didn't think I had any instant coffee," she said. "Where did you find this?"

"Instant coffee?" he asked, puzzled. "What's that?"

She took a sip and got a mouthful of coffee grounds. The look on her face must have alerted him that something wasn't right.

"Aaaaah, I screwed up, didn't I?" he asked.

She forced herself to swallow. "It's OK… we can strain it." She stood and rummaged in a drawer for a tea strainer. "See? We'll just pour it through here and it'll be fine."

She was correct; after being poured through the strainer, the coffee was as good as if it had been brewed correctly.

They finished their coffee, and Katherine looked at her watch. "Oh gosh, I have to go." She glanced at the skillet on the stove. "Just leave that," she said, unable to imagine what kind of attempts Gabriel might make to clean it. "I'll take care of it later."

He followed her to the front door. As she was about to walk out, he put his hand on the back of her head, bent close and licked her cheek from jawbone to temple in one long wet slurp.

"Ewwww!" she protested, twisting away from his grasp. "What the hell did you do that for?" she demanded, wiping her face with her hand. "That's disgusting!"

"Hell is _exactly_ why I did it," he told her gravely. "You're mine now. Lucifer won't touch you… _can't_ touch you."

Her hand froze on her cheek. Suddenly, being licked by Gabriel didn't seem quite so bad – in fact, if it protected her from Lucifer, she was all for it. She let her hand drop to her side.

"OK," she agreed. "I'll be home this afternoon. Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone."

He looked wounded. "Of course not, Katherine."

As she drove away, she thought about what he'd said: _You're mine now._ She wasn't sure what that implied, but she figured if it kept Lucifer away, she couldn't complain.

* * *

A big surprise greeted Katherine when she arrived at school.

She dropped by the main office to check her mailbox and was stopped by Mrs. Higgins, the school secretary, who gave her a puzzled look. "I didn't expect to see you here today… you're supposed to be on paid sabbatical."

"Paid sabbatical?" she repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yes, it was just approved yesterday afternoon… oh, you didn't hear, did you?"

"But I didn't apply for – "

"Of course you didn't expect it," the secretary agreed. "It's very unusual for the school board to approve a year's _paid_ sabbatical. You must have friends in high places!"

"You have no idea," Katherine agreed dryly; she was beginning to understand what was going on here.

"Rita Monroe has your class for the rest of the year – you remember her? She subbed for you when you had the flu last year."

Katherine nodded, numb. "I remember."

Mrs. Higgins grinned. "So what are you waiting for? Go home and go back to bed!"

"Yeah," Katherine said, picking up her straw tote bag. "OK. Thanks."

As she walked to her car, she looked up at the sky. "Simon…" She sighed, thinking about the project that Heaven had given her. "Thank you. Now I have one less thing to worry about!"

* * *

On her way home, Katherine stopped at the pet store. In the bird section, she paused to watch an enormous white cockatoo flutter its wings in its cage.

"Can I help you find something?" She turned to see a young man standing beside her, wearing the blue smock of an employee and a name badge identifying him as Stuart.

"Well, I'm not sure," she said, not certain how to begin. "My boyfriend's allergic to birds…"

"And you have a bird?"

"Well… sort of…"

"What kind of bird is it?"

"Uhhhh… well… he's… ah…he's big," she said, gesturing expansively, indicating something man-sized with giant wings. "Really, _really_ big."

Stuart blinked. "That's big."

"Yeah," she agreed. "He's a big… um… a big bird."

"Well, that's bad news for your boyfriend. A big bird will produce lots of dander… and a lot of bird dust."

"Bird dust?"

"When new feathers grow in, they have a nice hard coating on the sheath. But as the feather ages, these little particles break off. That's bird dust. And the bigger the bird – "

"The more dust he produces," Katherine finished.

"Exactly. And any kind of activity spreads the dust around in the air. Preening and molting also add to the problem. And then there are the Powder Down Birds – birds that have special feathers that turn into a fine dust that helps the bird stay waterproof."

"Uh… I don't know if he's one of those."

"It's easy to tell. When you stroke his feathers – "

She held up her hands as if to push that thought away. "We don't really have that kind of relationship, you know?"

He was looking at her oddly. "OK."

"So, listen… what can I do about this bird dust stuff?"

"Well… there's this," he said, motioning for her to follow. He led her down an aisle, selected a bottle from the shelf and handed it to her.

"_Allerpet/b_," she read aloud. "_Even though birds are caged _– " She paused, fighting down giggles at the picture that had just formed in her mind. " _– they do manage to scatter allergens that cause allergic reactions into the atmosphere when they flutter their wings and move about_. _Allerpet/b will help most persons who exhibit reactions to birds by reducing the major cause_." She nodded at the helpful pet store employee. "This sounds promising."

"It's real easy to use, too," he pointed out, taking the bottle from her and reading from its label. "_Apply a fine mist of Allerpet/b lightly onto the feathers, spraying away from the head and towards the tail_." He stopped, stared at her. "What's so funny?" he asked, puzzled.

"Nothing," Katherine giggled, putting a hand over her mouth.

"You only have to use it once a week." He handed the bottle back to her. "I hear it works really well."

"Yeah… see… the thing is, I'm not sure he'll go for this," she said, trying to imagine how she would convince Gabriel to submit to being sprayed with this stuff every week.

"Is he a difficult bird to handle?"

She snorted. "You have _no_ idea. Maybe I'd better forget this," she said regretfully, putting the bottle back on the shelf.

"You could try an air purifier," the young man suggested. "Get one with a HEPA filter… they screen out a lot of allergens. And you can also get a HEPA filter for your furnace… that'll purify the air in the entire house."

"Thanks… maybe I'll try that."

"Good luck."

She smiled at him. "Thanks, Stuart – I think I'm really going to need it!"

* * *

Katherine decided that the best place to look for an air purifier was Sears. After consulting with several sales associates, she had selected a filtration system and a special air filter for her furnace, both to be delivered and installed the next day.

In order to get back to her car, she had to walk through the mall food court. She passed close to a Subway, where she smelled the fresh bread baking. Her stomach growled.

_Time for lunch_, she decided, and went up to the counter. She ordered a six inch turkey sub with extra cheese, a small drink, and a bag of potato chips. As she was digging in her purse for her wallet, she heard a familiar voice right next to her.

"It's on me," Lucifer purred, handing the cashier a twenty-dollar bill. "And get me a foot long meatball sub." He held up a finger as if in warning. "And don't skimp on the sauce." He turned back to Katherine and smiled. "Don't you just _hate_ it when they don't give you enough sauce?"

"Go away," she said in an unfriendly voice. She only just managed not to flinch away as he leaned close and sniffed her, inhaling deeply.

"Aaaah, that's _lovely_ perfume you're wearing, Katherine. What's it called – _Eau de_ _Gabriel_?"

"That's right," she agreed. "It's my new favorite. Now beat it."

"Here's your sub, sir," the cashier said, handing a wrapped sandwich to Lucifer. "Your total is – "

"Hang on, _I'm_ paying," Katherine said, resuming her search for her wallet.

"But I told you, Katherine – lunch is on me."

"I don't want _anything_ from _you_!" she said furiously. She found her wallet, extracted her own twenty and thrust it at the cashier. He looked from Katherine to Lucifer and back again, not sure what to do.

Lucifer shrugged. "The lady insists," he said in an ironic tone, reclaiming his money and stuffing it in the pocket of his long black coat. Katherine took her change, picked up her empty cup and went over to the soda fountain to fill it.

"That looks like a good table over there," Lucifer remarked, taking her chips and their sandwiches and walking off into the food court.

"Hey!" she protested, hurrying after him. "That's _mine_!"

"We'll sit here," Lucifer decided, ignoring her outburst. He put the sandwiches on the table. "We can sit and watch the people go by. Won't that be fun, Katherine?"

She stood over him, glaring. "I am not having lunch with Satan."

"Satan's here?" Lucifer glanced around, genuinely perplexed. "Where?"

"Cute. Now give me my sandwich."

"Ohhh," Lucifer said, comprehension dawning. "You think _I'm_ Satan."

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but – "

"I'm not Satan. I'm Lucifer."

"And Who's on first," she said scathingly.

"What?" he asked, puzzled.

"No, What's on second!"

"I really don't know what you're talking about. But as I told you, I'm not Satan. I'm Lucifer."

"Same thing!"

"No… actually it's not." He began to unwrap his sandwich. "Other angels besides me have Fallen, Katherine." He took the top off of his sub and inspected its contents carefully. "I was merely the first." Seeming satisfied, he put the top back on and took a bite.

"So who's the Devil?" she asked, watching him warily.

He appeared to consider the question carefully. "Well… since I'm the one in charge down in the basement, I suppose that would have to be me." He slid her sandwich and chips across the table at her. "Please, Katherine. Sit. I'm hardly going to attack you and rip out your soul in the middle of a crowded shopping mall."

"You can't touch me," she told him. "Gabriel said so."

"That's right, I can't. So sit." He shrugged elaborately. "Unless you don't believe he can protect you, that Heaven can protect you... or _would_ protect you." He smiled. "You're such a tender little morsel, and it would please me a great deal to see you lose your faith."

Scowling, she sat and reached for her food.

"Good little monkey," he crooned mockingly.

"Drop dead," she told him venomously.

"Not me," he said happily, leaning back in his seat to study her as she unwrapped her sandwich. "Why do you hate me so much, Katherine?"

"Because you're the Devil," she replied in a tone that suggested that the answer was obvious.

"All right," he agreed. "But have I ever harmed you? Have I ever harmed or even threatened anyone you care for?"

"No," she admitted. "But you'd like nothing better than to destroy my soul… everyone's souls. So I think I'm entitled to at least dislike you." She took a bite of her sandwich and opened her chips.

"God would say that you should love everyone," Lucifer pointed out, taking a bite of his own sub.

"I doubt that applies to _you_," she said. "How's your sandwich? Did they give you enough sauce?"

"Why yes they _did_! Thank you for asking, Katherine. And," he grinned knowingly. "Nice attempt at changing the subject."

"Well, we really don't have a lot to say to each other, Lucifer. I might sit here and have lunch with you, but I'm not going to go home with you no matter what. End of discussion. So you can stop wasting your time. Go try to corrupt someone else."

"I'm not here to corrupt you, or to trick you. I just want what's best for you."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Gabriel… well – as you monkeys might put it – he's never been wrapped too tight, even from the very beginning."

She nodded, understanding. "OK, so he's always been a little nutty. Your point?"

Lucifer took another bite of his sub, chewed, and swallowed. "Way back when I was still the most exalted among angels, I told God that He had to do something about Gabriel, because he was going to snap and it wasn't going to be pretty. And do you know what He told me?"

"No." She leaned forward in her chair, fascinated despite herself. "What did He tell you?"

Lucifer also leaned forward, glancing around and lowering his voice as though afraid he might be overheard. "He told me to mind my own business."

Katherine was shocked. "No!"

"Yes!"

"I don't believe you!"

"Nevertheless, it's true." He leaned back again, watching her. "Now why do you suppose He did that? Why didn't He do something about Gabriel before it was too late?"

"I don't know," she said heavily. "I don't know why He does most of the things He does. But it's not for me to know or understand, Lucifer." She sighed. "Maybe it's not for _anyone_ – human _or_ angel."

"Have you forgiven him, Katherine?"

"Who?" she asked puzzled. "God? For what?"

"Not God. Gabriel."

"Oh." She thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I have. I don't understand him any better, but I do forgive him. I think he's doing the best he can with what God gave him."

"Ahhh," Lucifer breathed, looking very pleased. "And why did God create Gabriel like that in the first place? Why didn't He make Gabriel perfect? He certainly could have, you know."

"No one's perfect," Katherine replied automatically. "Only God."

"God is threatened by perfection in anyone else but Himself, you know. Look what happened to me."

"Nothing _happened_ to you," she said harshly. "You brought it on yourself. You rebelled against Him. And besides, you weren't perfect."

"I was close, Katherine. So close." Lucifer sighed sadly. "If I hadn't existed, He would have had to invent me… for without Darkness, there can be no perfect Light."

"Wait a minute, are you saying – "

"That He created me so that I could Fall. Yes."

"He would never do that!"

"Wouldn't he? Think about it, Katherine," he finished off his sub and stood. "Think about it," he said, and walked away.

She watched him until the crowd swallowed him up, and then she put her head in her hands.

"I hope You know what You're doing," she whispered, realizing as she spoke that it was a strange prayer to make, but at the moment it was all she had to offer.

* * *

Katherine unlocked her front door and stepped inside.

"Gabriel?" she called, really hoping he was there. "Hey, are you here?" There was no reply._ Well, I'm sure he has stuff to do_, she mused. _What with being the Left Hand of God and all…_

She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee and saw that he had put the dirty skillet in the sink… and that there was a can of Pledge furniture polish sitting on the counter near it. _I told him not to try to clean it_, she sighed. She squirted dish soap into the burnt egg-crusted skillet with its new lemony fresh scent and then filled it water.

When she finally sat down with her cup of coffee, she decided to call Greg and fill him in on recent events… aside from her lunch with the Devil. She wasn't sure quite how she would explain _that_ to him without sounding like a lunatic.

"That's terrific!" he said when told about her paid sabbatical. "When the Altman case is over, maybe we'll go away together… just the two of us."

"I'd love that," she agreed.

"Maybe go to a resort… or on a cruise. You decide."

"Decisions, decisions," she said with a laugh. "And God knows I could use a vacation!" Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something fluttering on the floor near the air conditioning vent. "What's that?" she asked without thinking.

"What's what?" Greg asked, a smile in his voice. "I can't see whatever it is from here, Katie-Kate!"

"I know," she replied absently as she went over to inspect it. "Of all the…" It was an enormous white feather. "Gabriel," she murmured as she picked it up.

Greg must have overheard. "Oh, is he still there?"

"Not right now," she said, sitting back down and placing the feather on the table next to her coffee cup. "But he'll be back."

"If I didn't know better, I'd be jealous!" he teased.

Katherine laughed. "Let me tell you something, Greg. If Gabriel and I were the last two people left on Earth, the human race would die out." _Which is literally true, _she reflected, recalling what Gabriel had told her about nephiilim. As Greg laughed along with her, she glanced at the feather and remembered something. "Oh, hey… I bought an air purifier today… and a HEPA filter for the furnace and air conditioner."

"Why'd you do that?"

"For your allergies," she said, and smiled. "Because I love you so much."

"Awwww… that's so sweet! But I told you… I'm only allergic to birds."

"Yeah, I know," she said, picking up the feather and studying it carefully. "I just think it's better to have it. Healthier, probably."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Well, listen – I have to go. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes, and then a lunch with the senior partners."

"Good luck," she told him.

"Thanks, Katie-Kate."

"Bye… love you."

"Me too."

She hung up the phone and continued to study the feather. It was huge – a good foot long – and obviously not from any ordinary bird. She brushed it against her cheek; it was so soft…

Suddenly she remembered Gabriel rolling around on the floor with Lucifer and realized that it might not be Gabriel's feather after all.

With a shudder, she put it down on the table, picked up her coffee cup and headed to the living room to check her e-mail.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED…

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got my information about feathers, bird dust, and Powder Down Birds from the Winged Wisdom e-zine. That website has been _enormously_ helpful to me, as it has all kinds of information about birds and avian behavior that I'm sure I'll be putting to good use in subsequent chapters!

Allerpet/b is a real product and belongs to Allerpet, Inc. I've never used it, but I have used Allerpet/c (for cat dander) and found it most effective – I wouldn't hesitate to recommend that product to anyone who suffers from cat allergies and still wants to have a cat or spend time with one. They also make a product called Allerpet/d for dog allergies.

And the "Who's On First?" sketch that Katherine quoted to Lucifer belongs to the late Abbott and Costello.

* * *


	6. She Talks To Angels

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 6

"She Talks To Angels"

* * *

_Katherine was sitting on a park bench with another woman. As they talked, their children played in the sandbox under their watchful eyes._

_"Phil's just never home anymore," Katherine's companion said with a sigh. "OK, I knew what I was getting into when I married a doctor, but still…"_

_"It's the same with _her_ father," Katherine said, gesturing at the sandbox. "I never know when he's going to show up for supper… or even_ if_ he's going to show up for supper!"_

_The other woman laughed. "I hear you!"_

_A little blonde girl came over and tugged on Katherine's sleeve. "What is it, honey?" she asked the child._

_"She's telling scary stories again! Make her stop!"_

_"Who is, sweetie?" Katherine asked, frowning. She glanced over at the sandbox and realized that none of the little blonde girls in pastel dresses playing there were hers. _Where's my daughter?_ she wondered._

_The blonde child was still tugging on her sleeve. "Make her stop, Miss Henley!"_

_Numbly, Katherine got up and allowed the child to lead her away._

_There was a flock of perfect little blonde girls in pastel dresses sitting on the patch of grass in front of the wooden balance beam. They stared up in rapt, horrified attention at the little girl who was perched there, perched like a bird._

_This porcelain-skinned child in the long black dress wasn't blonde like the rest; her softly curling hair was as black as a raven's wing. _

_"And then," she was saying, leaning forward and lowering her voice, "he opens your mouth and – "_

_"What are you doing?" Katherine demanded. _

_The child stared back at her with light blue eyes that were fringed with long black lashes. She had a lovely heart-shaped face and a little pink bow-shaped mouth. The entire effect should have been quite charming, but Katherine found that she wasn't a bit charmed. _

That's not Greg's daughter!_ her mind screamed, but she forced herself to remain calm. Whoever her father was, this odd little girl was still _her_ child. _

_"They wanted to know what Daddy does," the raven-haired girl explained with a shrug. "So I'm telling them."_

_"All right… I think that's enough. Come on, we're going home."_

_The little girl stood and jumped down from her perch. As she took Katherine's hand, she turned back to the flock of perfect little blonde girls in their pastel dresses. "Next time," she said quietly, "I'll tell you about what we did on Take Your Daughter To Work Day."_

_"No you _won't_!" Katherine gritted out through clenched teeth, dragging the child along._

_The little girl looked up at her, frowning. "Mommy, are you mad at me?"_

_"Of course not," Katherine said with a laugh that sounded forced even to her own ears._

_"Do you love me?" When Katherine didn't reply, the little girl's frown deepened. "Do you?" she demanded._

Katherine woke to sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. She looked at the clock on the nightstand and her eyes widened. She was usually an early riser… how could she have slept until eleven?

"And what the hell kind of dream was _that_?" she muttered, getting out of bed and trudging into the bathroom.

She flipped on the light, looked in the mirror, and made a face at what she saw. She reached into the shower and got the water running, and then turned on the radio that sat on the back of the toilet.

"Says she talks to angels" Chris Robinson wailed. "Says they all know her name."

She stared blearily at the radio.

"Oh yeah, she talks to angels, says they call her out by her name – "

"Gahhh," Katherine said and switched the radio off, silencing The Black Crowes.

If only she could silence the snarky voice in her head as easily. _Interesting dream, wasn't it?_ it asked.

"Not particularly," she said out loud.

_Some people say that dreams are all about our most secret desires, the ones we can't share with anyone – not even ourselves._

She didn't even want to consider_ that_.

"It was just a weird dream, that's all," she told herself. "And the_ only_ thing it means is that I shouldn't eat cold spaghetti right before going to bed!"

* * *

When she reached the steps and smelled coffee, she realized that Gabriel must be in the kitchen.

"I hope he didn't try to make eggs again," she muttered.

She found him sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading a rather damp copy of the _New York Post_.

"Good morning, Katherine," he said, looking up from his paper. "Did you sleep well?"

"Um…" _Does he know about that dream I had?_ she wondered. Possibly. Heck, he could have put the stupid thing in her brain in the first place; she wouldn't put it past him. She decided it was best to avoid the question entirely. "You look like you got wet," she observed, changing the subject.

"Yeah, a little." He ran a hand through his hair. "I got caught in the rain."

"It's not raining out," she said, gesturing at the bright sunlight coming in through the window.

"It is in New York."

She blinked. "Oh."

"Where did you think I got the paper?"

"You know, Gabriel… I hadn't really thought about it."

He reached into his long black coat and withdrew another newspaper from an inside pocket, this one folded. "Got the _Times_ too," he said, putting it on the table.

"_The New York Times_?"

"No… London. And it was raining there, too."

She smiled. "Wow…you have _very_ eclectic tastes!" She went to the stove and picked up the saucepan. She found the tea strainer he'd left in the sink, placed it over a mug and poured the coffee through it. "I see your eye is all better," she observed, sitting down.

"Yeah," he said, reaching up to touch it absently as he read. "We heal fast."

The long white feather was still on the table where she'd left it. "Is that yours?" she asked, gesturing at the feather. "I found it on the floor yesterday."

"Yeah, it's mine." He shrugged apologetically. "I'm molting."

She nodded; by this point, nothing fazed her. "Good thing I ordered that HEPA filter… and by the way, some guys from Sears are coming to install it today. Don't give them a hard time, OK?"

"Who, me?" he asked innocently, and she gave him a look.

"Hey, that reminds me… I suppose you know I had lunch with Lucifer yesterday."

His head jerked up. "Whaaaat?"

_He _didn't_ know!_ Katherine realized._ Interesting…_

"I ran into him at the mall when I went to Sears," she continued, and was struck by how mundane it all sounded. "He likes meatball subs with lots of sauce. And," she continued, watching him carefully for a reaction, "he told me all about _you_."

"Huh," Gabriel said, and went back to his paper. "Don't believe anything he says."

"Oh, I don't," she agreed.

"He lies like you _breathe_," he continued, and then was silent for a moment. "So what did he say about me?"

"He said you're a nut," she told him bluntly. "And that you've _always_ been a nut."

"Aaaah, who cares what he says?"

"Gabriel, if you didn't care, why did you ask?"

"Curiosity."

Katherine sipped her coffee and made a face. "You know what? Maybe I should teach you how to use the coffee maker. What do you think?"

He shrugged. "If you don't think I'll burn down the house with it."

"It's possible," she allowed. "But unlikely." She stood, went to the sink and dumped the rest of her coffee down the drain. "And even if you do, it beats drinking more of _this_," she joked, and was rewarded with a smile.

When she sat down again she saw that he had abandoned the tabloid and was holding the feather by its quill, studying it intently.

"Why did Lucifer tell me you're a nut?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Who knows? Trying to turn you against me, maybe?"

"Maybe," she agreed.

"That would be just like him, you know." He preened the feather absently as he spoke, smoothing its barbs down so that the long white flight feather gradually became sleek and smooth again under his practiced touch. "He likes to make trouble… you might say it's his _raison d'etrê_."

"It's really interesting that you put it that way, considering some of the stuff he said to me yesterday."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his attention still focused on grooming the feather.

"He insinuated that he was created just so he could Fall." Her eyebrows went up meaningfully as she continued. "And _you_ just said that making trouble is his reason for being, which kind of goes along with what he – "

"Aaah, he'll say _anything_," Gabriel told her dismissively. "You know that. Don't let him suck you in."

"All right," she agreed, filing this new information away for further thought later. Somehow she couldn't convince herself that he'd chosen that particular phrase by chance. _Do angels make Freudian slips?_ she wondered.

"So tell me something," she said, leaning forward in her seat. "Why did you lick me yesterday morning?"

"Well… you know…" He seemed embarrassed for some reason.

"No, I don't know. Tell me!"

"I… uh… I thought you'd like that better than… than… " His gaze was riveted to the feather in his hands. "Um… _you know_."

Yes, he was _definitely_ embarrassed, and Katherine was quite amused… not to mention extremely curious. "Gabriel, I have _no idea_ what you're trying to say. Just tell me."

"Look, I thought you'd like that better than having sex with me," he blurted out, and she nearly fell out of her chair.

_"What?"_

"Well, it's… we're not supposed to, you know, be with… ah… with women. I told you about nephilim… it's not a good mix, your kind and mine. But some of us break the rules every now and then… I don't know, maybe with an especially pretty girl. They can't help themselves, I guess."

"And?"

He shrugged. "Once a woman is marked that way, no other angel can touch her."

"But wait a minute… you told me about that boy's mother... you almost _killed_ that poor woman!" Katherine reminded him. "Didn't you?"

"That didn't really work out the way I planned," he reminded her dryly. "Turns out that The Boss was watching after all."

"So, when you licked me – "

"It gave you the same protection. Yeah. You know, I actually wasn't sure it was going to work."

Her mouth fell open. "You're joking! You mean you sent me out there with protection that you weren't sure would actually _work_?"

"I figured if I suggested that we have sex you'd shoot me again!"

"I wouldn't have done _that_…" Her voice took on a humorous tone. "Because I don't own a gun."

"See? I knew you wouldn't have reacted real well to that."

"Probably not." She thought for a minute. "So Lucifer thinks we're having an affair… or at least that we've slept together."

He looked surprised, as though he hadn't considered this. "Yeah, I guess he probably does. I didn't think that far ahead."

To his surprise, she grinned. "_That'll_ really mess with his head – way to go, Gabriel!"

"_Sometimes_ I get things right," he said smugly. He inspected the feather carefully, licked a finger and smoothed a stray piece of down back into place. "He knows – or he _thinks_ he knows – that I don't mess with mortal women… and that _you_ wouldn't have me on a bet. So he'll probably be sitting down there in his basement scratching his head over this for the next century or two."

"Maybe he thinks that you just did it to protect me… and that _I_ did it because I'm afraid of him," she suggested.

"Ahhhh, it's pointless to guess what he thinks because we'll be wrong every time. I've _never_ been able to figure out how his mind works!"

She leaned back in her chair, thinking. "I bet he told me you're a nut because he figured I wouldn't be thrilled about sleeping with a crazyman."

"Could be. So tell me something, Katherine… if you'd thought it was the only way to be safe from him… would you have done it?"

She blinked. "I don't… um… you know, I really don't know. I'd have to think about it."

"Yeah… I guess you would," he agreed.

"So how about you?" she asked. "Would _you_ have done it? To protect me?"

He lowered his eyes, staring at the feather. "I never touched mortal women because I didn't want to father nephilim. When I became human…" he shrugged. "I didn't have to worry about that. But now I do – again."

"I'm on the pill," she told him. "So – _would you have done it_?"

He looked amused. "You just don't give up, do you?"

"No. Do_ you_?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Better than most," she agreed. "Now answer my question."

"Well, Katherine… I really don't know. I'd have to think about it."

It took her a moment to realize that he'd just parroted her reply to his original question.

"_Oooo! _You are the most _exasperating_ person I've ever met!"

"I try," he said, standing and moving close to her chair. He smiled down at her and slipped the long white feather behind her right ear, quill first. "Silly little monkey," he said, tapping her lightly on the nose with one finger. Both his tone and the gesture were affectionate, and she smiled.

"Birdbrain," she replied, but there was no malice behind the insult.

"So, you wanna show me how the coffee maker works?"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I got some of my info about feathers and preening from _The Feathers Site: Everything About Feathers_.

* * *


	7. Revelations

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 7

"Revelations"

* * *

Not long after the men from Sears departed, the doorbell rang again.

"Now who could _that_ be?" Katherine wondered, leaving Gabriel in the kitchen with the new air purifier while she went to find out. "Don't even _think_ about touching that, Gabriel!" she called over her shoulder as she opened the door.

"Surprise!" Greg said, beaming at her. He had one hand hidden behind his back.

"Greg!" she exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. "Why aren't you at work?"

"Got a little break," he said, and sneezed. "What's with the feather?" he asked, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "You know I'm allergic!"

She reached up and felt the feather behind her right ear, completely forgotten until now.

"Sorry," she said, removing it. "I forgot I had it there." She smiled wryly. "And anyway, it's not like I was expecting you!"

"True," he agreed with a nod. "Man, that thing's _huge_! Where'd you get it?"

"Gabriel," she said shortly, hoping he wouldn't press her for more information.

"Figures! He knows I'm allergic to birds, and so what's he do? Runs out and gets you a feather from the world's biggest one!"

Katherine laughed. "Not quite… but close." She absently drew the feather between her fingers as she spoke. "Greg… what do you have behind your back?"

He grinned. "I just got a little break… not long, but long enough to take you out to celebrate."

She was puzzled. "Celebrate?"

"I made partner!"

Her face lit up. "Greg! That's _wonderful_! I wish I had some champagne – "

He produced a bottle from behind his back. "Done!"

"Perfect!" she said, laughing. "Come on, let's have some before we go."

She led him into the kitchen, where Gabriel was once again absorbed in the _New York Post_.

"What's up, Gabe?" Greg asked amiably.

"Gregory," Gabriel said, looking up from the tabloid. "You're aren't at work."

"Wow… there's just no fooling you, is there Sport?" he asked, and sneezed.

"Ah ha!" Katherine said happily. She put the long white feather down on the table. "Let's try this out!" She bent and moved the portable air purifier close to Gabriel and switched it on. The angel leaned forward in his chair and studied the little appliance.

"Leave it _alone_," Katherine told him in a warning tone. She went to the cupboard and produced three champagne glasses. "Want to pop that?" she asked Greg.

"Sure."

"We're celebrating," Katherine told Gabriel, handing him a glass. "Greg made partner."

Gabriel made one of his noises: _hhhuhnnn_.

"Be _nice_," she warned him. Behind her, Greg popped the champagne cork and began pouring out the bubbly liquid.

"Here," he said, handing her a glass. "What's that stuff on your fingers?" he asked with a frown.

"I don't know," she replied, staring down at her hands. They appeared to be dusted with a fine white iridescent powder.

"It's in your hair, too," he told her, pointing at her right temple where the big white feather had been. "And on your nose… right there." He tapped her nose just as Gabriel had done earlier, and suddenly she understood.

"Powder Down Birds," she said under her breath. "Damn."

"What?" Greg asked, puzzled.

"Nothing," she sighed. Powder Down Birds were, she recalled from her visit to the pet store, the birds that produced and spread the most allergens. And so naturally, Gabriel had to be one. It was just her luck. She went to the sink to wash her hands.

"You drinkin', Gabe?" Greg asked, offering the bottle. Gabriel held out his glass to be filled, and Greg sneezed again, violently.

"That thing works great, Katherine!" Gabriel observed dryly.

"Want some Benadryl?" she asked Greg, ignoring the angel.

"Yeah, I guess."

She went to the cupboard where she had stashed a box of the antihistamines just in case.

"Here," she said, punching the little pink pills out of their foil wrapper into his outstretched hand.

"Thanks," he said, sniffling. "I don't understand why I've been having these allergy attacks at your house lately!"

"The feather, maybe?" she suggested, pointing at it.

"You didn't have it the other night," he reminded her. "Did you?"

"Uh…" She raised her glass. "How about a toast? To the firm of Garrett, Watson, Marcus… _and_ Bailey!"

"Hear hear!" Greg said with a laugh, clinking his glass against hers. "That's music to my ears!" He popped the little pink pills into his mouth and followed them with a gulp of champagne.

"And to all the criminals they help get off the hook," Gabriel added, clinking his glass against theirs and drinking deeply.

Katherine glared at him. "Gabriel – "

"And to Altman, who got away with it," Gabriel continued, glancing at Katherine. "Do you think we should drink to poor little Rebecca, and to those four little girls he raped and murdered… or would that be in bad taste?"

"I should've known I could count on you, Gabe," Greg said ironically. "So how'd you know about Altman? I was saving _that_ victory to surprise her with over dinner.

Gabriel shrugged. "Aaaah, I know things." He caught Katherine's eye. "Don't I, Katherine?"

She looked at the floor, saying nothing.

"Want to go, Katie-Kate?" Greg asked.

"Is that why they made you partner, Greg?" she asked quietly. "Because you got Altman off?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "That was a big case, and I was able to – "

"Greg…" She shook her head, not sure how to continue. "I'm sorry, but I don't really want to hear about how Altman is a free man, OK? I know you're a great lawyer and that getting him off is a big coup for you, but…" She shrugged. "I just can't stand the thought of him out there, walking the streets. In fact, it makes me want to throw up!"

"But I told you, he didn't do it!"

Katherine sighed. "I know you did, Greg. And I know you believe that… or at least, I hope you do. I hope that's why you fought so hard to – "

Greg frowned. "You've been listening to _him_, haven't you?" he asked, gesturing at Gabriel, who was watching this exchange with obvious interest.

"Leave Gabriel out of it."

"He's trying to poison you against me!"

"No he's not," she said quietly. She was silent for a long moment. "Let me go fix my hair and change… and then we'll go eat. Somewhere nice, to celebrate. All right?"

"Sure," Greg agreed, sounding subdued.

As Katherine walked out of the kitchen, she heard Greg say, "Thanks a lot, Gabe!"

"I'm always glad to help, Gregory," was the tranquil reply.

* * *

On her way to her bedroom, Katherine paused outside the guest room. The door was ajar.

She had offered Gabriel the room and she wondered now if he had actually been using it. She put her hand on the door and peeked inside, her jaw dropping in dismayed astonishment at what she saw.

"Well," she sighed, "I didn't explicitly tell him _not_ to write all over the walls…"

The light blue walls – as well as the eggshell ceiling – were now decorated with symbols that looked to have been drawn with a thick black felt-tipped marker. Every available space was covered with what she recognized as angelic script, and she wondered briefly what it said, what it meant… and why he'd done it.

She realized suddenly that she literally knew nothing of his species and their culture. Perhaps this is what angels _did_ – decorated their living spaces with tales of their exploits. Or Bible verses. Or dirty limericks.

This last made her giggle, but she soon stopped when she saw a little pile of white feathers sitting on the end of the bed. With a little frown of concern, she went to investigate.

_He _did_ say he's molting_, she reminded herself.

On the top of the pile was a broken feather tinged with the dark red of dried blood.

"Oh… that _can't_ be good," she murmured, picking it up and inspecting it.

The entire length of the shaft was filled with dried blood, signifying that it must have contained living tissue when it had broken. The end of the quill was covered with dried blood too; clearly it hadn't fallen out on its own. No, it must have been _pulled_ out.

Katherine sucked in air between her teeth. _Ouch_, she winced in sympathy, for although she didn't know much about being a bird, she recognized something that had to have hurt like hell when she saw it.

She put the broken, bloody feather back where she'd found it and slipped from the room, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Katherine quickly realized that no amount of brushing would remove the bird dust from her hair. Spurred on by horrifying thoughts of the appalling things that an unsupervised Gabriel might be saying to her hapless boyfriend, she hurried through the fastest shampoo and shower of her life.

When she finally entered the kitchen twenty minutes later, she found Greg and the angel engaged in a heated discussion about the Arizona Cardinals. Greg was certain that they'd make it all the way to the Super Bowl this year. Naturally, Gabriel disagreed.

But at least they weren't tearing each other's eyes out over it.

Greg was ticking names off on his fingers as he spoke. "Look, Gabe, we've got McGowan, Warner, McCoy – "

"Aaaah, they all stink," Gabriel said dismissively.

Katherine found sports about as entertaining as watching paint dry, and so she had no idea if the angel was truly knowledgeable about football or if he was just automatically contradicting everything Greg said.

"You wait and see," Greg was saying. "We're going to pound Denver into the ground next week!"

"Naaaah, it'll never happen."

"Are you kidding? Denver'll never beat us – it's more likely you'd sprout wings and fly!"

Gabriel's expressing underwent a remarkable transformation: He suddenly looked like he was trying not to laugh. "I guess we agree after all," he finally managed.

This seemed like a good time to step in. "OK, boys," Katherine interrupted, holding up her hand. "Enough sports talk!"

"Wow, you look terrific, Katie-Kate!"

"Thank you," she said, smiling.

"Gabe, doesn't she look great?" Greg asked, beaming proudly.

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, I guess," he agreed noncommittally.

"Oh gee, Gabriel… I bet you say that to _all_ the girls," Katherine said dryly. "You big flatterer you!"

Greg laughed. "You must be a real hit with the ladies, Sport!"

"Huh." Gabriel cocked his head and studied Greg thoughtfully for a moment and then came to his feet, closing the space between himself and Katherine in one long smooth stride.

He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips for a kiss. "Katherine," he purred in a seductive tone that she had never heard him use before. "Next to you, Cleopatra was an ugly hag… and I should know!"

This made her giggle, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Why thank you, Gabriel!"

Still holding her hand in his, he bent close and spoke directly into her ear, his voice low and husky. "That question you asked me this morning… the answer is _yes_."

Katherine's eyes opened wide in astonishment and she felt her cheeks flush scarlet as he released her hand and moved away. He turned to face her as he walked, still talking as he backed toward the kitchen door. "In a heartbeat."

"Uh… " She looked at the floor and cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. "Well… um… yeah. Gabriel. OK. Thank you."

She was obviously flustered, and Gabriel smiled with satisfaction. "Have fun tonight, you kids," he said brightly, and was gone.

"Now _that_ was interesting!" Greg observed, looking amused. "What in the world did he say to you?"

She shook her head. "Nothing you'd understand," she replied, and was alarmed by how her voice shook and wavered. She cleared her throat again. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yeah, sure."

She tried on a smile. "All right – let's go celebrate!"

* * *

All through dinner, Katherine's mind kept returning to Gabriel and all of the alarming things he had said.

That Altman was a child rapist and murderer was abundantly clear – she didn't doubt it one bit. It disturbed her deeply that Greg had helped put that piece of filth back on the streets and had even gotten himself a promotion in the process.

And the other things the angel had said… well, she wasn't even going to _think_ about that now. Maybe not ever.

"Katie-Kate?" Greg's voice brought her back to the present.

"Sorry, I was a million miles away," she apologized.

"Yeah, I noticed! So do you want dessert or not?"

"I don't know…" she hesitated.

"Go ahead, indulge! We're celebrating!"

"Right," she agreed grimly. "We're celebrating."

"Hey, if you're still upset about Altman – "

She held up her hands. "The last thing I want to talk about is Altman! It just makes me sick, Greg."

"I promise you, he's not – "

"Greg, I said I don't want to talk about it," she said with finality.

But of course he had to try again. "What makes you so sure that Gabriel's right about him, Katie? Come on, tell me." He reached across the table and took her hand. "I know there's something going on with that guy that you're not telling me about – "

Her head jerked up. "_What_? I've _never_ cheated on you – _ever_! With _anyone_ – and certainly not with Gabriel! The very idea is just – "_Tantalizing,_ that snarky voice in her head whispered. " – preposterous!" she finished. _The answer is_ yes she heard Gabriel say in her mind, and she picked up her wineglass and took a quick gulp.

Greg was laughing. "I didn't mean it _that_ way!"

"Then how _did_ you mean it?"

"Who is he, Katie? Who is he _really_?"

She shrugged. "I told you – a guy I met in Chimney Rock."

"Uh huh," he said, nodding. "And how'd you meet, exactly?"

"That's a long story."

"I've got nothing but time, my dear."

She sighed. "Not tonight, Greg. OK?"

He leaned back in his chair. "Actually, I have my own theory about your pal."

She looked amused. "Oh? And what's that?"

"I think he's a New York crime boss."

She actually laughed. "Oh Greg… that's too funny! A New York crime boss… where do you come up with this stuff?"

"Well, it explains everything," he said smugly. "That accent of his, and why he's so secretive, and how he knows about criminal activity – "

"You said Altman's not guilty," she pointed out.

"And you seem to think that he _is_ because _Gabriel_ says so – in fact, you believe that guy over _me_, your own boyfriend!"

"Too bad he's not _really_ a crime boss, Greg – you could represent him when he got arrested! That'd be right up your alley, wouldn't it?"

"Or… I know," he continued, not rising to her bait. "He's one of those psychics, right? Those guys who go to the cops, saying they know where bodies are buried!"

"No, Greg," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "He's not a psychic."

"So tell me… what _is_ he, Katie?"

For a moment, she gave serious consideration to telling him everything – but she knew how insane the story would sound, and she just didn't have the mental energy to deal with trying to prove it, trying to convince him. "Greg… I can't. Not tonight."

"Soon, though. OK?"

She nodded. "Soon," she promised.

"All right." He motioned to the waiter. "Check, please."

* * *

The house was dark when they returned, the only light coming from a second floor window that Katherine recognized as the guest room.

"I hope he didn't figure out a way to draw on the carpeting, too," she muttered.

"What?" Greg asked as he parked the car.

"Oh, Gabriel wrote all over the walls in my guest bedroom," she said offhandedly as they got out.

"He did?"

"Yeah."

Greg slammed his car door. "Katie, that's… that's just _weird_."

She sighed. "I know."

"What did he write?" Greg asked, curious.

"Oh, who knows? It's in another language."

Greg shook his head. "That guy just gets weirder and weirder, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "He sure does."

"Well, let's go see what he's up to now," Greg said with a laugh.

"I'm almost afraid to find out!"

They heard the singing when they got in the house.

"Come fly with me, let's take off in the blue!" Gabriel sang from somewhere upstairs.

"Frank Sinatra is spinning in his grave," Greg observed as they climbed the steps. Katherine giggled.

"Once I get yoooou up therrre, I'll be holding yoooou so near, yoooou may hear angels cheer 'cause we're together!"

The singing was coming from the bathroom door, which stood open.

"Come fly with me, come fly we'll fly awaaaaaay – "

They reached the doorway. "Gabriel, I – " she began, and then let out a shriek and covered her eyes.

Gabriel was standing at the sink, completely naked. He was shaving, using soap and the edge of a very sharp-looking knife.

"Whoa, Sport – put the snake back in his cage, huh?" Greg said, looking away.

"Sorry," Gabriel apologized. "I didn't hear you guys come in."

"It's no wonder – you were singing at the top of your lungs!" Katherine said. "So, is it safe to look?"

"Yeah," he said, laughing. "I think so."

"Good grief, what a sight," Katherine said as she cautiously uncovered her eyes. He'd wrapped a towel around his waist, thank God.

"And we just _ate_, too," Greg joked.

The smell of clean, wet bird was nearly overpowering in the small steamy bathroom. "Greg – you're not sneezing," Katherine suddenly said, obviously surprised.

"Should I be?" Greg asked curiously.

"Um, well – "

"Look, it's been fun," Gabriel interrupted, unexpectedly coming to her rescue. "And I'd let you two stay and watch, but that's not really my thing… you know?"

Katherine blushed deeply, while Greg just laughed.

"OK, Gabe… we'll let you take care of business. Sorry we walked in on you, man."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, Gabriel," Katherine apologized, still mortified.

"Aaaah, it's my own fault… I should've shut the door."

"Something to keep in mind for next time," Katherine told him as she walked out with Greg.

"You bet. Good night, kids," he said, and closed the door.

* * *

Later, as Katherine lay in the dark with Greg sleeping beside her, she couldn't help but think about what she'd seen earlier… and frown over it.

She'd only gotten the briefest glimpse before covering her eyes, but it had been enough to register that something just wasn't _right_ with Gabriel… that he came with something other than the standard equipment. Which was possible of course, since he was a completely different species…

"I'm not curious," she whispered. "I'm _not_."

She turned over on her side and kissed Greg on the cheek. He stirred and mumbled in his sleep.

"Good night," she murmured to him, but it was a long time before she actually slept.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you want to know about that bloody feather Katherine found, Google "blood feather" for all the gory details. Yes, it's something that really happens to birds – believe it or not, I didn't make that up!

* * *


	8. Birds and Monkeys

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 8

"Birds and Monkeys"

* * *

Katherine was awakened by Greg bending over her, kissing her.

"I have to go, Katie-Kate," he murmured. He smelled of soap and shampoo and aftershave.

She moaned and rubbed her eyes. "It's still dark… what time is it?"

"Six. I have to get going."

"Mmm, right," she agreed. "Want me to make coffee?"

"Nah, but thanks. I have to go home and change… the new partner can't show up in a tee shirt and sweat pants, and I don't have any other clean clothes here."

"All right," she agreed, sitting up. "I'll walk you out."

The bedroom was not so dark that she couldn't see him grin. "Better put something on first… unless you want to repay Gabe for that show he gave us last night!"

She laughed sleepily. "That's not on my list of Things To Do."

Greg shook his head. "He's one weird guy, Katie."

"I know." She fumbled around in the dark until she found her robe. "Let's go."

* * *

After kissing Greg goodbye, Katherine went back upstairs to get ready for the day. Not that she had much on the agenda now that she wasn't working, but she didn't feel right about going back to bed. And anyway, she was awake now.

She crept silently down the hallway, pausing as she passed the spare bedroom. She wondered if Gabriel was in there, writing on the walls… or perhaps he was doing something else equally unfathomable that she didn't have enough imagination to picture.

There was no light coming from the crack under the door. _Could angels see in the dark?_ she wondered. It was impossible to tell even if he was in there, let alone what he might be up to. She certainly wasn't going to knock and find out.

With a sigh, she continued on to her own bedroom.

* * *

Freshly showered and dressed for the day, Katherine made herself a pot of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table with her PowerBook to read about birds and molting.

A mere twenty minutes later, she was ready to bang her head repeatedly against the keyboard.

Molting, it turned out, makes many birds itchy, uncomfortable, moody, and irritable. "Yeah, because Gabriel needs something to make him more difficult to deal with," she told the computer sarcastically. "That's just terrific." She looked up at the ceiling. "Thanks a _lot_!" she called Heavenward, and got a sudden mental image of a luminous Being looking down on her, laughing. "It's not _funny_," she muttered.

She was still reading about feathers and molting when Gabriel came strolling into the kitchen. "Good morning, Katherine. I smelled coffee."

She watched him get a mug from the cupboard and pour himself a cup. "I didn't know you were here," she finally said.

"I wasn't," he replied, sitting down across from her. While she was puzzling this out, he pointed at her computer. "Anything interesting?"

"No," she said, shutting it hastily. "Frustrating, mostly."

"Huh."

"Listen, Gabriel – I'm _really_ sorry about last night." She felt her cheeks flame at the memory, but he didn't seem at all embarrassed.

"Aaaah, what're you gonna do?" he asked rhetorically, shrugging. "Stuff happens, right? No big deal."

"Yeah…I guess. Hey, you want some eggs?" she asked, recalling something she'd read a moment ago.

He shrugged. "Sure."

She got out the skillet and the eggs and made him a half dozen, scrambled. "This'll make you feel better," she murmured as she slid them out onto a plate. "I hope."

"Aren't you having any?" he asked with a frown as she put the plate in front of him.

"Not this batch," she said, handing him a fork. "This one's special, for you."

His eyebrows went up. "Why, thank you, Katherine." He took a bite of eggs and chewed… and frowned. "They're crunchy," he said through a mouthful of eggs. "I think maybe you got some shells in here."

"Oh, I know. This website – " She opened her computer and turned the screen towards him, " – says that when your bird molts, you should feed him scrambled eggs with the shells in them. Look… it says it right there," she continued, pointing at the screen. "It has to do with protein and minerals and growing feathers."

He was looking from Katherine to the screen and back again, disbelief written all over his face. "But Katherine…" he finally said, "I'm not a bird."

She shrugged. "You molt like one."

"But I'm not a bird," he repeated.

She held up her hands helplessly. "I wanted to help, but I didn't know what to do for you. And there are no websites about molting angels… at least, none that I could find." She gave a short laugh. "Maybe I should make one!"

He sat watching her for a moment, toying absently with the eggs on his plate. "So I'm _your bird_?" he finally asked. Something in his voice warned her to tread carefully.

"Um… I'm not sure what you – "

"Your exact words were, _this website says that when your bird molts, you should feed him scrambled _– "

She groaned, putting her head in her hands. "Gabriel – " she began.

"You think I'm your _pet_?" he continued, his voice suddenly rising in anger. "Because – believe me, Katherine – I am _not! Anyone's! Pet!_" He pounded a fist on the table to emphasize each word and she jumped in surprise, her head coming up so she could stare at him in wide-eyed terror.

_This_ was the Gabriel she remembered from Chimney Rock – a volatile, violent man with piercing blue eyes that burned with a cold, angry fire.

When she spoke it was clear that she was frightened, verging on panicked, but trying to hide it. "Gabriel, I didn't mean it like t_hat_. I know you're not a _pet_, for Heaven's sake! I was just… just… trying to _help_ you!"

Something – the look in her eyes, perhaps, or the way her voice shook with fear – reached him, and all of the fight seemed to go out of him. "Aaaah, it's all right, Katherine," he said, waving a hand. "I kind of… ah… overreacted."

She exhaled explosively and put a hand over her face, struggling to compose herself.

"See, sometimes I get a little… touchy… you know, when I'm molting."

Katherine held her tongue, for it didn't seem like the appropriate time to mention what else the website had said about birds in molt. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded. "It's all right. I understand."

She felt like someone who had just been reminded that a wild thing that she'd thought had been tamed was still quite dangerous after all; this time, it had shown its teeth. Next time, it might bite.

"I didn't mean to scare you… I'm sorry," he continued apologetically. His outraged anger had evaporated as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced by this strange, subdued contriteness that seemed totally out of character for him. _Dear God, molting is the angelic version of PMS!_ Katherine thought suddenly, and then had to struggle not to laugh.

"And I guess… it couldn't hurt to, you know, to eat these," he went on in that same unfamiliar tone, picking up his fork. "Who knows, might be good for me."

She didn't know quite what to say. "Well… I – I hope they're not too gross."

He speared some eggs on his fork and offered them to her across the table. "See for yourself."

"Oh, Gabriel…" she hesitated, "I don't know…"

"It won't kill you," he assured her. "And even if it does…" he shrugged. "I'm the Angel of Death!"

This made her laugh, releasing more of the tension between them. "All right," she agreed, and leaned forward in her seat so he could feed her.

He watched as she chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "Well… it's not the _worst_ thing I've ever eaten," she finally pronounced.

"But not the greatest," he finished for her. "Yeah."

"Look, you don't have to eat that if – "

"It's all right, Katherine… like I said, it might be good for me."

_Does he_ really _believe that, or is he just going to eat them as a show of penitence?_ she wondered, and then sighed, shaking her head. She would never understand him. "There's so much I don't know about you," she said aloud, sounding almost wistful.

"What's to know?" he asked, chewing his eggs: _crunch, crunch, crunch_. "I'm not that interesting."

"Oh yeah, right!" she said, laughing.

"I'm not," he insisted.

"Please! You're the Archangel Gabriel – "

"Yeah, I know."

" – and there are probably _thousands_ of religious leaders all over the world who would give their right arms to have you sitting in _their _kitchens, eating _their_ eggs – "

"I don't think I could eat that many eggs, Katherine."

" – and there are probably a _million_ questions that I should be asking you – "

"So ask," he said, still chewing.

She stopped in mid-rant. "Really?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "Why not?"

"I didn't think… I don't know, I guess I thought you wouldn't want to answer stupid questions from a monkey."

"Aaaah, silly little monkey… I'm your bird." He smiled. "Ask whatever you want."

She laughed. "Birds and monkeys… we should open a zoo!"

"Yeah… or a sideshow," he suggested, making her laugh harder. "So, Katherine… what do you want to know?"

She blinked. "Anything?"

He shrugged. "Sure. I've caused you so much trouble… I figure I owe you something!"

This was an unbelievable opportunity, possibly one that had never been offered to another human being in the history of Time.

"Gee, Gabriel… let me think." She took a breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "OK… how about… I thought you and Simon were dead… I even saw Lucifer kill you! So how are you both still alive?"

He smiled. "When my kind come here, to this plane – Earth – we become mortal. We can be killed, but we don't die. The energy that makes us what we are returns to our own plane of existence."

She frowned. "Don't take this the wrong way, but… all that trouble over God giving humans souls… and yet what you're describing sounds an awful lot like a soul to me, Gabriel."

"Yeah, but our energy can be destroyed. We can be wiped from existence, forever. You saw it, Katherine… Thomas's vision… fields of angels, impaled on stakes, dead, dying – "

"I remember," she interrupted with a shudder. "It was horrible!"

"That was _our_ place, and those angels that you saw…" He shook his head. "Your kind – the ensouled – _can't_ be destroyed. Not here on this plane, and not on ours. Not even in Hell… though the people who end up there probably wish things were different. You are truly immortal." He smiled sadly. "It's too bad that so few of you realize it. You wouldn't be so afraid of death if you knew."

"I'm not afraid of death, Gabriel," she said softly. "I'm afraid of how I'll die. I don't want to suffer through years of illness… cancer… chemo… there are so many horrible ways to die." She gave a humorless laugh. "Guess that's why the Angel of Death is also the Angel of Mercy, huh? Sometimes ending life is the most merciful thing to do."

He nodded. "Yeah."

She hesitated for a moment, and then spoke. "Gabriel… will you promise me something?"

"If I can."

"Promise me you won't let me suffer. My mother… well, you probably know how she died. Bone cancer. It's not something I'd wish on my worst enemy."

"I know," he agreed.

"Tell me – " she began.

He held up his hand. "I know what you're gonna ask. Why don't I take people who are suffering, who have no hope."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I want to know."

"Because I _can't_ – not until The Boss says it's their time."

"But why does He allow it? Why does he let people suffer when you could just – "

"I don't know!" he suddenly exploded. "It's all part of His Plan, and _I_ don't get to know the details. I just get to be a good little angel – " his voice became bitter, as though he were mockingly repeating something he'd been told long ago. " – and _do what I'm_ _told_. _That's_ who – _what_ – I am."

She was silent for a long moment in the face of this outburst. Finally, she spoke. "That must be very frustrating," she said quietly, but her mind was racing, trying to grasp the implications of what he was telling her.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, sounding more like himself. "It's _very_ frustrating."

"Well," she said with a sigh, "I guess it's kind of comforting to know that we humans aren't the only ones He's left in the dark. Comforting – and scary! I thought that you of all people would have the answers, Gabriel. I thought you'd be able to explain it all to me."

He shook his head. "No. I wish I could, but…"

"I know. So… I guess we just have to trust that He knows what He's doing." She smiled at him, gave a little shrug. "We have to have faith."

He looked surprised. "You know… that's such a hard thing for some of us angels to get through our thick, stubborn skulls… and you, Katherine – _you_ got it right away!"

"Not bad for a silly little monkey, huh?" she asked, still smiling.

"No, not bad at all," he agreed softly.

They were quiet for a moment. "Can I ask you something else?"

"You can ask me as many things as you want, Katherine," he assured her, taking another bite of eggs.

"Where did God come from?"

Gabriel stopped chewing and stared at her. "I… I don't actually know," he finally said, swallowing. "In fact… _no one_ does."

Katherine was incredulous. "And you never _asked_?"

He shrugged. "Naaah, it just… never occurred to me." He became thoughtful. "Lucifer might've asked Him… you know, he always questioned _everything_. Me, I don't ask questions."

"But you didn't just docilely go along with everything either, did you?" she asked knowingly.

"No, and I still don't. So far, though, The Boss hasn't complained."

"Maybe He's just glad to have you back."

"Aaah, maybe," he agreed. "So what else do you want to know?"

Katherine spent the next several hours peppering him with questions. At one point, he dumped out the contents of a saltshaker onto the table and used his finger to sketch a quick map of the Celestial Spheres for her.

"And this is the Seventh Heaven," he told her, pointing at his rudimentary map. "Understand, this isn't drawn to scale or anything."

She laughed. "Right."

"This is our place… me and the rest of my choir. The seraphim."

"You sing?" she asked, her eyebrows going up.

"Sometimes… yeah, but that's not what I meant by choir. That's what you call a bunch of angels."

"Really? Not a flock or a gaggle?"

He looked up at her and saw her teasing smile. "Not a gaggle," he agreed, matching her smile. He went on to outline the hierarchy of the divine beings, from the seraphim down to the mere angels.

"And you're a seraph," she said, running her finger through the salt and licking it absently.

"Yeah." He took a sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair. "Now it's your turn, Katherine."

"What?"

"You can answer a question for _me_ now."

She laughed. "All right. But I can't imagine anything that I know would be interesting to you."

"You underestimate yourself, Katherine. There's plenty that you know that's interesting to me. For example, how to make eggs is interesting to me."

"I can show you," she offered, half-rising.

"No, sit," he said, motioning for her to remain where she was. "That's not what I want to know right now."

"All right."

He put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "That question I asked you yesterday morning, Katherine. What's your answer… would you have done it?"

Katherine felt the slow blush creep up her cheeks. She didn't really want to answer, but after he'd spent so much time answering her questions, she felt it would be unfair to refuse.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'd have done it."

* * *


	9. It's Time To Come Home

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 9

"It's Time To Come Home"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I love reviews, I really do. It makes me so happy when people enjoy my stories and when they take the time to tell me so. All that I ask is that you please, _please_ **_don't_** put spoilers in your reviews – thanks so much!

* * *

Katherine couldn't quite believe what had just happened; had she really just told Gabriel that she would have slept with him?

Judging from the look on his face, the answer was yes, she had.

After a moment, he found his voice. "Katherine… I'm stunned."

She laughed nervously. "Yeah, me too. But you know, if it kept me safe from Lucifer…"

"Ahh," he said ruefully, "I should've known."

For some reason, she felt that she should elaborate. "I mean, it's not like you're not… not… attractive… I guess… it's just that, you know, Greg and I – "

"It's all right, Katherine," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I know."

Katherine's stomach growled loudly. She looked up at the clock and was astounded to see that it was nearly noon.

"Did you realize that we've been sitting here talking for almost five hours?" she suddenly asked, relieved to have an excuse to change the subject.

"No," Gabriel said, and frowned. "I remember what it was like being human… measuring time in hours and minutes. But I never got used to it, you know? Time doesn't really mean much to me unless I have something important I gotta do."

She nodded. "Yeah, I guess it wouldn't." She took a sip of coffee. "Are you hungry? Do you want to get some lunch somewhere?"

He shrugged. "I could eat, yeah."

"All right," she said, rising. "Let's go. I'm getting sick of this kitchen!"

* * *

Katherine and Gabriel drove around for forty-five minutes in search of a restaurant that they could both agree upon, and it was not lost on her that anyone who overheard their bickering might easily mistake them for a married couple.

"Look, there's the Olive Garden – how about that?" she suggested.

"What's that? Greek food?"

"No, Italian."

Gabriel shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

She glanced over at him. "Do my ears deceive me? Did we just discover a restaurant that meets your exacting standards, O great Archangel?"

He gave her a look, and she laughed as she pulled into the parking lot.

"Olive Garden," he muttered under his breath as they got out of the car and walked toward the restaurant. "Sounds like they should have Greek food with a name like that."

"Well, they don't," she told him. She stopped walking and looked at him. "Don't tell me you'd rather have Greek!"

"Nah, this is fine," he said, and surprised her by holding the door open for her, just as a human man might have done.

"Why Gabriel, what a surprise," she murmured as she went inside.

"Habit I picked up when I was human," he explained.

"Let me tell you, being human did you a world of good!"

He made one of his little noises in reply: _Hnnuhhh_.

"Two, please," Katherine said to the hostess. "And how long is the wait?" she asked as an afterthought.

The hostess glanced at her list. "About fifteen minutes," she replied.

Katherine looked at Gabriel, who shrugged.

"All right," Katherine agreed. She peered into the dining room, trying to assess if their wait might turn out to be shorter. "Oh my God," she whispered. "It _can't_ be!"

But it was. Greg was sitting at a table over in the corner, and he wasn't by himself.

He was with a beautiful young blonde girl, and as Katherine stood there staring in shock, the lovely stranger reached across the table and took his hand, laughing at something he'd said. The girl was at least fifteen years younger than Greg… and probably twenty years younger than Katherine.

Without thinking, she marched into the dining room.

"Katherine," she heard Gabriel call. "Is our table ready?" She ignored him, striding right up to Greg's table and glaring down at him.

"What the hell is _this_?" she spat angrily.

"Katie!" he exclaimed, shocked. His face flushed, and his eyes darted guiltily in the direction of his companion, which was all the confirmation that Katherine needed. "This isn't what it looks like," he tried lamely, and sneezed.

"Yes it is," Gabriel said. Somehow he had materialized directly behind her. "This is _exactly_ what it looks like, and it's been going on for two months."

"_What_?" She turned to Gabriel. "That can't be!"

"Yes it can." She looked up into his eyes, nodded once, and turned back to the treacherous scene before her.

"You son of a bitch," she grated out. "You lying bastard."

"Thanks a heap, Gabe," Greg said sarcastically. "You're a real pal."

"Any time, Gregory," Gabriel replied tranquilly.

Greg sneezed loudly and grabbed a napkin. "Damn!" He looked up at Katherine and smiled apologetically, wiping his nose. "Listen, Katie-Kate, I – "

"Drop dead!" She picked up his half-full wineglass and dashed its contents in his face.

"Hey!" Greg protested, wiping a very nice _Cabernet Sauvignon_ out his eyes and blinking up at her in shock. Then he sneezed several times in quick succession.

"You're _crazy_!" the blonde girl exclaimed, staring up at her wide-eyed.

"Oh, Honey, you have _no_ idea," Katherine agreed.

"Who _are_ you?" the girl demanded, and Katherine stared at her in disbelief.

"I'm his _girlfriend_. I'm surprised you didn't figure that out by now."

"Girlfriend?" she echoed, clearly stunned. "_I'm_ his girlfriend!"

"Uh oh," Gabriel said, but he didn't sound a bit perturbed. In fact, Katherine would have sworn that he was enjoying himself, which infuriated her even further.

"You want to make a fool of yourself with this little blonde bimbo, fine," she told Greg from between clenched teeth.

"I'm not a bimbo!" the girl protested, and Greg sneezed again.

"Shut up," Katherine told her, and returned her attention to Greg. "Just don't come running back to _me_. This is _it_. We are _through_."

She moved to leave and Greg jumped to his feet, grasping her arm. "If you'd just calm down and listen – "

"I'm not interested in _anything_ you have to say, Greg," she said coldly, yanking her arm away.

"This is _your_ fault!" Greg said, glaring at Gabriel. His attempt at outraged anger was somewhat undermined when he sneezed explosively.

"_My_ fault?" Gabriel asked, incredulous. "How is it _my_ fault that you decided to have an affair with one of your interns, Gregory?"

"You've been poisoning Katie against me from the start!"

"Oh save it, Greg," Katherine said. "You're just making yourself look more ridiculous."

"It must be sad to be old and desperate," the blonde girl mused, leaning back in her chair and sipping her wine. "I _almost_ feel sorry for you."

Katherine smiled grimly. "Listen, Sweetie, you're welcome to him – I have bigger fish to fry at the moment."

Greg sneezed. "It's him, isn't it?" he asked in the tone of a man who'd just made an amazing discovery. "You're screwing Gabriel!"

"No – I'm _not_, actually. But now that you said it, yeah, I think I'll go home and do just that! Why the hell not, right?"

Gabriel was clearly taken aback by this news. "Uh… what?"

Katherine grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go." He was so stunned that he allowed her to drag him along.

"Wait a minute," Greg called, hurrying after them, sneezing. "You can't do _that_!"

"Oh yeah? _Watch me_," Katherine said.

"Hey – I told you last night I'm not into that stuff!" Gabriel protested.

"Good grief, Gabriel – 'watch me' is just an expression!"

"But… Katherine… don't you want to eat lunch?" he asked.

"We'll order delivery…" she glanced over her shoulder at Greg. "And we'll eat it in bed!"

"Katie!" Greg yelped, following them out the door. The blonde girl came hurrying after him.

"Let her go," she advised. "He's ugly anyway – they're a good match!"

"You two are a better one," Gabriel said suddenly. He turned and moved close to the girl, and she took several quick steps back in surprise. "Does your fiancé… Robert… does he know about you and Gregory?"

Her face flushed crimson.

"How about it, Carolyn?" Gabriel persisted.

Her head jerked up. "How do you know my name?"

"Ah, you _look_ like a Carolyn," Gabriel said dismissively.

"Fiancé?" Greg asked numbly, staring at the blonde girl. "You're engaged?" He sneezed and wiped his nose on his napkin.

"Oh yeah, she's engaged," Gabriel confirmed as Carolyn stared down at her shoes. "To some doctor… intern… he's just starting out. See, he's her back-up plan if this thing with you falls through."

"You're lying," Greg said, but there was no real conviction in his voice.

Gabriel shrugged. "Ask her," he advised, gesturing at the girl. She continued to stare at her shoes, and her face was very red.

"She sure looks guilty to _me_, Greg," Katherine said with a shrug. "But what do I know? Obviously I'm not the best judge of character, am I?"

"How do you know all this stuff?" Greg asked, glaring at Gabriel. "What are you, some kind of weirdo stalker?"

"No… I just know things."

"Greg, who _is_ this guy?" Carolyn asked, frowning.

It was Gabriel who answered her. "That's a very long story," he told her sincerely.

"Yeah," Greg agreed snidely. "I'm sure it is. Maybe one day you'll tell us that 'lawng stahwry', huh?" He moved very close to Gabriel and pointed a finger right in the angel's face. "But you listen to me, buddy," he continued, "I'm on to you. You're up to no good, I _know_ it."

Unfortunately, the impact of this little speech was lessened quite a bit by the uncontrollable sneezing fit that suddenly seized him.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Greg," Katherine said as she unlocked her car. She shook her head. "I don't know how I could have been so wrong about you." Her eyes filled with tears, and she wiped them away angrily. "Goodbye, Greg," she said sadly, and got in the car.

"Wait, Katie – "

"See ya, Gregory," Gabriel called cheerfully, his hand on the car door.

"Gabe, you'd better not even _think_ about touching her, or – "

"Or what?" Gabriel asked, interested. "What'll you do, Gregory – _sue_ me?"

Greg made a fist, glaring at Gabriel. "Oh, wouldn't I just _love_ to – "

"That's enough, you two!" Katherine shouted, climbing back out of the car. As much as she hated Greg at the moment, she didn't want to see what would happen if he finally succeeded in riling Gabriel.

"Katie, stay out of this!" Greg said angrily. "He's had it coming since the night we met!"

"Listen, Greg," she said, hurrying over and grabbing his arm. "You _really_ don't want to do this. _Trust_ me."

"Come on, Greg – let's go finish our lunch," Carolyn pleaded. "You just made partner… you don't want anyone to see you brawling in a parking lot with some weirdo!"

Greg looked from Carolyn to Katherine and back again.

"You both think I can't take him!" he finally said, sounding really angry now. Clearly, his pride was seriously wounded, which only made him more determined. "Just because he's taller than me doesn't mean I couldn't beat his sorry – "

"Yeah?" Gabriel had finally had enough. "You wanna dance? Come on, Monkey Boy," he goaded, beckoning Greg forward with a gesture. "Let's dance!"

That was all the encouragement Greg needed. He pulled free of the hands that restrained him and lunged at the other man.

But Gabriel somehow wasn't occupying that space anymore, and Greg found himself colliding with the side of Katherine's car hard enough to rattle the windows.

"Ohhh…" he moaned, sliding to the pavement.

"Greg!" Katherine and Carolyn yelled in unison.

Gabriel bent down, grabbed the lapels of Greg's suit jacket and hauled him to his feet in one fluid motion. "Are we all done here, _Gregory_?" he hissed, clearly hoping that the answer to that would be 'no'.

Greg sneezed violently, gave an inarticulate cry and took a swing at Gabriel, his fist connecting with his opponent's jaw in a satisfying solid punch that actually hurt his knuckles.

Gabriel's head snapped back from the force of the blow and he made an ominous growling sound low in his throat. Greg's eyes opened wide; he'd never heard a human being make a sound like that, ever. Before this thought could fully register, Gabriel had shaken off the punch and hoisted him into the air, effortlessly lifting him up so that his feet were dangling at least a foot from the ground.

Gabriel looked up at the astonished human, regarding him with the same deeply interested look that an owl might give a mouse right before swallowing it whole. "I _said_… are we all _done_ here… _Gregory_?" he repeated calmly, almost pleasantly.

Greg took a deep breath.

"Don't do it, Greg," Katherine advised.

"Greg, honey, come on," Carolyn pleaded.

Greg suddenly seemed to realize what everyone else around him already understood: He was embroiled in a fight that he couldn't possibly win. With effort, he relaxed his fists. His shoulders sagged.

"Yeah, Gabe, he said quietly, his voice low with undisguised resentful anger. "Sure."

"Hhhnnn," Gabriel said, sounding disgusted. He let the human drop to the ground. Greg staggered a bit and then moved away, sneezing.

Katherine watched as Carolyn went to him, laying a hand on his arm. He angrily pulled away, and she heard them begin to argue as they walked toward the restaurant.

Gabriel came to stand beside her. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," she said softly, watching Greg yank the restaurant door open and storm inside without bothering to hold the door for Carolyn… or even bothering to acknowledge her existence.

Katherine turned to Gabriel and frowned. "You're bleeding…" She put her finger at the corner of her own mouth to illustrate. "Right there."

He wiped his mouth with two fingers. "Yeah, he punched me pretty good."

"Oh, Gabriel," she said, dismayed. "Are you all right? Let me see – "

He waved away her concern. "I'll be fine, Katherine."

"Are you sure?" she pressed, and he gave her a look. "Right, stupid question." She was quiet for a moment. "Thank you for not hurting him."

The angel shrugged. "Aaaah, what're you gonna do?" he asked rhetorically. "He didn't really want to fight with me… he was just, you know, overwhelmed by everything and I was a convenient target."

This statement was so insightful that Katherine tilted her head, regarding Gabriel in a new light. "I was teasing you before, but you really _did_ learn a lot as a human, didn't you?" she mused. "Good for you."

"I got in a couple fights," he admitted. "Usually over stupid stuff. So I know how it is."

"And _angels_ don't fight over stupid stuff?" she asked seriously. "Just humans?"

"Well, we don't fight over _women_… so today was another first for me!" This made her laugh, and he smiled. "But yeah, we fight over stupid stuff too – we just do it on a grander scale than you people."

"Yeah, I remember," she agreed, and sighed. "You were right about Greg… I should've listened to you. I was just so convinced that he loved me – "

Gabriel reached out and tilted her chin up. "He _does_ love you, Katherine," he told her sadly. "He's just not what you'd call a one-woman guy."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Well, I wish he'd been honest with me."

"Yeah, I know." He released her chin and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

* * *

Katherine spent the ride home staring numbly out the window. She felt dizzy, detached, and unable to focus. And her head hurt. It was funny how your entire world could be turned upside down in a single instant.

She was peripherally aware that Gabriel kept stealing worried glances at her out of the corner of his eye as he drove, and was touched by his concern. She was the one who was supposed to be taking care of _him_, worrying about _him_… but now he was worrying about her instead. It seemed so odd that less than a week ago this entire situation would have been unthinkable; finding Greg with another woman, relying on Gabriel for support and comfort. The very thought of those things would have made her laugh.

Well, she sure wasn't laughing now… this seemed to be a day for unthinkable things to happen. Had she really said she was going to take Gabriel home and screw him? And was that what he was expecting when they reached her house? She pushed that thought aside, unable to cope with it at the moment.

"Katherine?"

She suddenly realized that the car wasn't moving anymore and that Gabriel was staring at her expectantly.

"We're home," he told her gently. She nodded silently and got out of the car. When she stumbled on the front steps, he reached out and steadied her.

"Thanks, Gabriel," she murmured, reaching into her purse for her keys. "For everything."

"Don't worry about it, Katherine."

She was very aware of his hand at the small of her back as they went into the house. Was he afraid that she would stumble again, or…?

"Listen, Gabriel," she began.

"It's OK," he said. "Let's go sit down."

They went into the living room, where Katherine's eye happened to fall upon the DVD player that Greg had brought her the other night… had all of these unthinkable things happened over the course of only a few days? It seemed like a lifetime ago when she had come in here and found Gabriel perched on her coffee table. She had promised to make dinner for Greg that night –

Suddenly, everything hit her and was standing the middle of her living room, sobbing with her face in her hands.

But Gabriel was there, grasping her wrists and gently pulling her hands away from her face. Through her tears, she saw that he was looking down at her with a kind of baffled compassion, as though he just wasn't sure what to do.

For some reason, this made her cry even harder. Her head was really beginning to ache badly now.

She felt him release her wrists and she brought her hands up to wipe her face, and then his arms were around her and he was pulling her close, murmuring against her hair. He smelled like the night and moonlight and wild things that called to each other in the forest, and she put her arms around him and buried her face in his chest and cried and cried and cried.

Now Gabriel was the one taking care of _her_. He went to the kitchen and got her a glass of water and a cool damp towel to wipe her face.

He sat down with her on the sofa and held her gently against him until her sobs gradually subsided.

"At least you're not saying 'I told you so'!" she said, looking up at him and wiping her eyes.

He shrugged. "Aaaah, what good would it do?"

"None at all. You just seem like the _I Told You So_ type."

"Not today," he said quietly, and gently brushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "Silly little monkey."

"Birdbrain," she whispered.

She felt dizzy and her head was absolutely _pounding_… probably a consequence of getting so upset, she reflected. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest, listening to his breathing, his heartbeat. She felt so safe there in his arms.

"Gabriel," she murmured, her voice sounding strange to her own ears.

"I'm here." His voice seemed to reverberate inside her head and her mind reeled dizzily. "I won't leave you, Katherine."

"I know." There were bright lights behind her eyelids… all colors… beautiful, dazzling. She wondered vaguely if he saw them too.

_She was falling… but Gabriel would catch her. He was _her_ angel. He would swoop through the air on his great white wings and catch… catch…_

She struggled to open her eyes and look up at him, but she found she couldn't seem to focus on anything. "Gabriel, my head hurts."

"I know," he whispered. "It'll be OK, I promise."

_His voice seemed to come from very… far… away. _

"Don't be afraid, Katherine."

_So far away._

"Shhhh…"

Her eyes slipped shut.

_The lights, the colors – !_

* * *

Gabriel gently laid Katherine on her bed and folded her hands on her chest. He pressed the back of one hand to her cheek, feeling her warmth, her life.

With a sigh, he jumped up to perch on the footboard of her bed, to wait for the Word he so desperately hoped would come.

Waiting wasn't something that normally bothered Gabriel; he was a patient angel, as one might expect of someone who was accustomed to measuring time in millennia rather than minutes. But now he felt a sense of urgency… what if the Word came, and it wasn't what he hoped for after all? Humans were ephemeral creatures… what if he was wasting precious time, time that might actually make some kind of difference for Katherine?

To pass the time, Gabriel brought his wings forward and began to preen them, running his fingers through the feathers, smoothing them back into place. It was a soothing activity, and he was self-aware enough to know that he wasn't only doing it to realign and neaten his feathers. The whole situation with Katherine had been painful from the start, and right now Gabriel needed the comfort.

There were quite a few feathers that he just couldn't reach and he wished briefly for another angel to help, as was their custom. He did the best he could, and then fluttered his wings briefly to settle some of the impossible to reach feathers more neatly into place.

And that was when it happened, when the Word came – a ribbon of white-hot fire blazing across his brain, filling him, making him whole… and – Praise Him! – granting permission.

_I am well pleased with you, My little angel… and how could I struggle for so long to teach you compassion and yet refuse to show it when finally you ask? In the matter of this woman who has become so precious to you, you may do as you will._

"Thank you," Gabriel whispered.

He hopped down from his perch, picked up the phone on the nightstand and punched its buttons.

"911 operator, this call is being recorded," a female voice said in his ear. He put the phone down on the nightstand and turned back to look at Katherine again.

He could still faintly hear the woman on the phone asking him what his emergency was, if he needed help.

He gave a slight smile; he was the Archangel Gabriel. He needed no one's help… not now.

He kissed his finger and waved his hand over the bed.

"Katherine," he whispered. "It's time to come home." He bent over her like a fairytale prince seeking to wake the enchanted maiden. "Give me a kiss."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: From Chapter 6 on, I wrote most of the scenes between Katherine and Gabriel while listening to the song "Breathe Me" by Sia, so in my mind it's kind of "their song". I actually had it on continuous loop on iTunes while I wrote their last two scenes together, and when I went back to reread what I'd written (while still listening to it)… well, anyway. You can hear the song by following the link I posted in my profile.

And yes, now that you ask, that _is_ the song they played over the final montage on the series finale of _Six Feet Under_!

* * *


	10. The Mystery That Was Gabriel

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 10

"The Mystery That Was Gabriel"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Unfortunately, they never gave Joseph a last name in any of the _Prophecy_ movies… so I gave him the last name of the actor who played him.

* * *

Greg drove up the long, dusty, desolate highway that led to Chimney Rock.

He still couldn't believe he was on his way to attend Katie's funeral… how could so much have changed in only a week?

Katie was dead, he'd broken up with Carolyn, and Gabriel was nowhere to be found.

Greg was still enraged that law enforcement wasn't doing anything to find Katie's mysterious friend. Sure, the Coroner's Office had ruled that her death was due to natural causes, but who has a stroke at the age of 42? As illogical as it was, he was certain that Gabriel was somehow responsible.

And with that in mind, he had spoken to the police and finagled his way into Katie's house, where he had taken photographs of those odd drawings that Gabriel had left on her guest room walls… and that was when he'd found the pile of big white feathers on the bed, just like the feather that Katie had had in her hair that last day they'd been together. _Leave it to Gabe,_ Greg had thought ruefully. _He must've started collecting them when he found out I'm allergic… that explains why I always had an allergy attack whenever I came over here!_

The feather on the top of the pile was broken and stiff with dried blood and would – Greg had guessed – provide a nice little DNA sample for analysis. He hadn't been sure _why_ it seemed so important to collect and collate this evidence, but something had told him that these feathers were the key.

He'd gotten an extra large Ziploc bag from the kitchen, and wearing rubber gloves (and sneezing all the while), he'd put the feathers in the bag and taken them to a contact he had in the Coroner's Office.

"I'm not a vet," Mike had said bluntly. "What do you expect me to do with them?"

"Find out what kind of bird they came from," he'd answered.

"Is it really that important?"

"Yeah," Greg had nodded. "I think it is… but I'm not sure why. I know it sounds crazy, but – "

"I'll do my best," Mike had promised with a shrug.

Greg had gotten a friend in the DA's Office to put the photographs of Katie's guest room walls on several different law enforcement databases, hoping against hope that they would lead somewhere.

Not that he was very optimistic. Gabriel had vanished as though he had never even existed. The police had humored Greg, dusting Katie's house and car for prints and coming up with nothing. The only prints they found in Katie's guest room were Katie's. Ditto the two coffee cups they found in the sink. Greg's prints were all over the house too… but evidently Gabriel's weren't.

The driver's seat of her car had been moved, suggesting that it had recently been driven by someone taller than Katie… but the only prints on the steering wheel were her own. It wasn't possible that the driver had somehow wiped the wheel – as Greg had suggested – because Katie's prints were perfectly clear, not smudged.

Greg just couldn't figure it out.

The paramedics who had answered the 911 call had initially thought that Katie had killed herself; she was arranged neatly on the bed, she had called 911 to insure that her body would be found, and she had even left the front door unlocked for them. It had seemed to be an obvious suicide, but the autopsy had proven otherwise.

So how _had_ she called 911 when she was lying there comatose, dying? That was a question that neither the police nor the Coroner's Office could answer to anyone's satisfaction. Unfortunately, they weren't overly concerned about pursuing it since there was no evidence of foul play involved in her death, no fingerprints on the phone aside from her own.

Greg's cell phone rang, and even though the highway was deserted, he pulled over to the side of the road to answer.

A quick glance at the caller ID told him that it was his friend in the Coroner's Office calling. "Yeah," he said into the phone.

"Greg," Mike said. "I have some news about those feathers."

"Great! What's up?"

"I FedEx'ed one to the Cornell College of Veterinary Medicine – they have an Avian Health Unit, so I figured that if anyone could identify what kind of bird that thing came from, it'd be them."

"And?" Greg asked.

"No dice. They said it's a primary flight feather, which means it came from a wing. And they never saw _anything_ like it before… they said it's probably from a raptor of some kind, but there aren't any raptors that big. In fact, they said that there aren't _any_ birds that big that are capable of flight."

"How big?"

Mike hesitated. "They said that whatever that thing came from, it'd have to be human-sized."

Greg blinked. "What?"

"Yeah."

"Is that _possible_?"

"I don't know – I _told_ you I'm not a vet, remember? But get this… I ran the DNA on that bloodstained feather, and it was the weirdest DNA I've ever seen in my life."

"It's probably bird DNA," Greg suggested. "You probably don't see too much of that in your line of work – that's why it looked weird."

"No, it's _not_ from a bird, because I had Cornell fax me some examples of avian DNA for comparison. Sure, there are _a lot_ of similarities, but not enough to explain – "

"A feather that didn't come from a bird?" Greg interrupted, puzzled.

"Yeah, it's weird. But you know what? It gets weirder."

"How?"

"Whatever this thing is, it doesn't have sex chromosomes… you know, X's and Y's."

Greg frowned. "And that means… what?"

"No gender. _Nada_. It's not male, it's not female."

"So what _is_ it?"

"Dunno. I asked Cornell… they told me there are reptiles and fish that rely on things like environment and incubation temperature for gender determination, and _they_ don't have sex chromosomes either. They're true hermaphrodites – both male and female, all at once. I guess you could say they come from the factory fully loaded."

"Bizarre," Greg murmured.

"Yeah, bizarre – and I saved the best for last. Believe it or not, I actually recognized the DNA from the feather right away, because I'd already seen it."

"You _did_?" Greg frowned. "Where?"

"Are you sitting down?"

"Yeah."

"We found a couple of black hairs on Katherine Henley's body… and it's the same DNA."

Greg's mouth opened, but nothing came out for a long moment. "How – "

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"So… if the DNA is similar, that means… what, exactly?"

"No, Greg. Not similar – the _same_. _Exactly_ the same. As in a one hundred percent certain match with whipped cream and a cherry on top."

"So it's from the same… person… bird… thing… whatever it is?"

"Yeah. _Whatever_ it is, it has black hair to go with those big white wings."

"You're _sure_ it was a hair and not part of another feather, right?"

"_Absolutely_ sure, Greg. Checked it out under the microscope and everything. I _do_ know a little bit about forensic investigation, you know!"

"The hair…" Greg groped, still trying to make sense of all this. "Is it possible that the sample from the feather got contaminated somehow?"

"Nope. A contaminated sample would show two distinct types of DNA. Not one."

"_Gabriel_ has black hair," Greg said suddenly.

"Gabriel?" Mike asked.

"Oh, he's Katie's weird friend. The one who vanished."

"Gabriel," Mike mused. "Like the angel, huh?"

"Angel?" Greg repeated, frowning.

"Yeah, you know – from the Bible?"

"I'm not really religious."

"Well, maybe you _should_ be. Think about it, Greg – mystery solved!"

Greg wasn't sure if Mike was joking or not. "Angels? I don't believe in that stuff."

"Hey, it's as good a theory as any _I've_ got," Mike said. "I don't know what else to tell you. As far as I know, this DNA isn't from anything we've ever seen here on this planet. Even Cornell is stumped."

"All right," Greg agreed, feeling even more puzzled now than he had been when he began this conversation. He was sure that the black hair had to have come from Gabriel… and then he suddenly recalled Katie's angry vow to take Gabriel home and screw him. With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he forced himself to ask, "Hey, one more thing… you did the autopsy, right? Did Katie have sex with… with anyone?"

"Yeah… she had consensual sex with _someone_ the night before she died, but it wasn't with the Bird-Thing, if that's what you're worried about."

"It was with _me_." Greg sighed. "OK, thanks, Mike."

"Anytime, buddy."

Greg hung up the phone and drove on for a few more miles, all the while trying to make sense of what he'd just been told. How could a feather have Gabriel's DNA – DNA that was like nothing else on Earth? Unless Mike's bizarre theory was right…

No, that was _absolute insanity_. Only fanatical nut jobs believed in things like that. And anyway, why would an angel have been hanging around with Katie? It didn't make any sense… even if he believed in that stuff. Which he most certainly did _not_.

His cell rang again – now it was his office calling. The dusty road was as deserted as ever, and this time he didn't bother to pull over.

"Listen, I know you didn't want to be bothered," his secretary apologized when he picked up. "Doctor Joseph Hytner from the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office called for you."

"Oh yeah? What's he want?"

Greg could hear the frown in her voice. "I told him that you were away on personal business and couldn't be reached. He wanted your cell, but I wouldn't give it to him. So then he absolutely _insisted_ that I call and give you this message. He wouldn't let me hang up until I swore on the life of my firstborn child that I would do it – believe it or not."

"OK… that's _really_ weird."

"Yeah."

"So, what's the message?"

"He said he saw those pictures you had Shirley post on VICAP yesterday and he needs to talk to you as soon as possible. He thinks you're in real danger, and he said he can't emphasize that enough: _real danger_."

"Danger?" Greg repeated, leaning forward in his seat. "Why?"

"He wouldn't say… said I'd think he's a nut, that _you'd_ think he's a nut, that _everyone else_ already thinks he's a nut."

"He sounds like a nut."

"Well, he was a very worried nut. Just be careful, OK?"

Greg sighed. "Yeah, I will. Did he leave a number?"

"Sure did," she said, and read off the digits. Greg pulled over and scribbled them down on the legal pad he always kept on the front passenger seat for just such occasions.

"Great, I'll call him when I get to the hotel. Thanks, Phyllis."

"Anytime."

"Listen… you go to church a lot, right?"

"Yes, Greg," she said, sounding amused. "Why?"

He hesitated. "What do you know about angels? Do they hang around with humans?"

"Uh… no, I don't think so."

"What about an angel named Gabriel?" Greg frowned, trying to recall the long ago Sunday school lessons of his childhood. "He's an important one, right?"

"Yeah, he's God's Messenger."

"And _he_ doesn't hang around with humans, does he?"

"No… I think he just delivers his message and leaves. That's how he did it in the Bible, anyway."

"So, no hanging around drinking coffee in the kitchen or watching DVDs or getting into fights at the Olive Garden or stuff like that, right?"

This time she laughed. "No, Greg. I really can't picture it."

"Yeah, me neither."

"Why are you asking me these things?"

"I don't know, Phyllis… maybe I'm turning into a nut like that doctor."

She laughed. "All right. I'll see you when you get back – and don't forget to call the nut."

"Believe me, I won't!" he promised.

He hung up the cell and got back on the road. He would definitely make that call as soon as he could, and maybe – just maybe! – he'd finally get to the bottom of the mystery that was Gabriel.

* * *

Chimney Rock was a ghost town.

The clerk at the Motor Lodge told Greg that the town had been slowly dying over the years, after the copper mine closed back in the early 90s. The school had closed four years ago, and the stores were being boarding up one by one.

"So what brings you here?" the clerk asked as he handed back Greg's Visa card. "We don't get many visitors, nowadays."

"A funeral," he replied shortly.

"Oh, you must mean that schoolteacher… yeah, she left when the school closed. I'm surprised she didn't leave a long time before that."

"She felt it was her duty to stay. You know – for the kids."

"No money in duty," the clerk said with a laugh.

"Not much money in hotels, either, from the look of things around here," Greg said rather sharply.

But the old man behind the counter only laughed some more.

"'Spect I'll be closing down and moving along too, pretty soon," he agreed. "Go live with my daughter and her husband out there in Tempe."

"Well, good luck to you," Greg said, collecting his key.

"You too, buddy. Room 105's the sixth door on your left when you walk out the door."

"Thanks."

"You bet. I'd say enjoy your stay, but under the circumstances – "

"Yeah. See you later."

* * *

Locating the room wasn't difficult, and soon he was fitting the key into the lock.

The blackout curtains were drawn against the afternoon desert sun, and so it was quite dark in the little motel room. It was nice and cool as well; Greg could hear the air conditioning unit running. He fumbled at the wall and found the lightswitch.

He left his briefcase and his one piece of luggage in the room, grabbed the little plastic ice bucket off of the bathroom counter and went back outside to the soda machine he'd passed on his way to the room. He bought two cans of Pepsi and filled up the ice bucket from the ice machine.

He returned to the little motel room, popped open a Pepsi, and sat down to call Doctor Hytner.

He gave his name to the lady who answered and was put on hold. He sipped his Pepsi as he waited and tried to decide whether he should tell the doctor about the feather and hair DNA.

"Hello?" a male voice said in his ear. "Gregory Bailey?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Joseph Hytner, and I saw those pictures you posted to VICAP."

"I heard. So what can you tell me about them, Doctor Hytner?"

"Call me Joseph. How much time do you have?"

Greg frowned. "As much time as you need, I guess. I'm here in Chimney Rock for a funeral tomorrow, and – "

"Chimney Rock?" Joseph repeated. "Oh boy."

"What?"

"Once upon a time, there was a homicide detective named Thomas Daggett. One day, he followed a murder investigation to Chimney Rock. He came back to LA raving about a War in Heaven, the Devil, and the Archangel Gabriel. You with me so far?"

"Yeah," Greg agreed, taking a deep breath. "I'm _totally_ with you."

* * *


	11. Pizza and Beer

"Birds of Pray"

Chapter 11

"Pizza and Beer"

* * *

Gabriel sat at the counter, sipping his coffee.

He had been sent to this place with a mission that he had no idea how to complete; for once in his life, he was totally at a loss.

"You're becoming a regular around here," the waitress observed, coming over with her coffee pot to offer him a refill. She didn't sound particularly pleased about it.

Perhaps this human would know what to do. Gabriel put his elbows on the counter and steepled his fingers in front of his face. "Maybe you could help me out with something… Madge. See, I had a fight with my buddy the other day." He gave a self-deprecating little smile. "We were fighting over a woman… you know how it is."

"Can't say I do," she told him in an unfriendly voice.

"But she's dead now… the woman," Gabriel continued, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip. "And I don't know how to make things right with my buddy."

The waitress frowned, shrugged. "Just go apologize."

"But _he_ started it!" Gabriel said hotly, realizing even as he spoke how childish it sounded.

The waitress shrugged again. "So wait until he finds _you_ and apologizes."

"Aaaah, he'll never be able to find me," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "So that's no good. And the thing is… the woman won't talk to me until I make up with my buddy."

The waitress frowned. "I thought you said she's dead."

"Uh… yeah," Gabriel said, mentally kicking himself. "Yeah I did – gosh, you caught me!" He gave a nervous little laugh.

A new voice piped up from the end of the counter. "Take a pizza and some beer over to his place and tell him that good pals like you two have to stick together – especially after what happened to the girl," an old trucker advised.

"Pizza," Gabriel repeated, nodding. "And beer. Got it."

"Sounds like a plan," the waitress agreed, her whole attitude managing to convey the idea that she was in favor of anything that got him out of her diner more quickly.

"And where can I get pizza and beer around these parts, Madge?" Gabriel asked.

"Pizza place closed two months ago," she informed him.

"There's a Pizza Hut next town over," the man at the end of the counter offered.

"North of here," the waitress added.

Gabriel leaned forward on his stool. "Don't suppose you could be a _tad_ more specific?"

Grudgingly, she gave him directions.

"Much obliged," he said, rising and tossing a five dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change."

* * *

When Greg finally hung up the cell phone, two hours had passed and he we weary and overwhelmed.

Even though everything made sense now, he still wasn't sure _what_ he believed. If Joseph was right, everything Greg had believed for so long was patently untrue; God did indeed exist, the Bible was all true, and angels and demons haunted this world when they weren't fighting unimaginable Wars over philosophical differences.

He drank down the rest of his second Pepsi and headed into the bathroom – all of that soda was finally catching up with him.

When he came back out, someone was knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" he asked, peering through the peephole. He couldn't see anything outside – the peephole appeared to be blocked by something – so he opened the door.

He smelled pizza… and he sneezed.

"Hi!" Gabriel said brightly, holding up a box from Pizza Hut. "I brought pizza."

Greg's heart climbed somewhere up into his throat. If the things Joseph had told him were true, this weird person wasn't even a _person_, really. He was some other creature entirely, a member of a species that was very, _very_ dangerous.

And he in particular was _especially_ dangerous.

"Uh…" Greg said, backing into the motel room. "That's… uh… that's great, I guess."

"Don't bother to thank me," Gabriel said offhandedly, coming inside and putting the pizza down on a little table. He closed the door behind him and held up a brown paper sack. "I got beer too."

"Yeah, terrific," Greg said, still backing away. "Great."

Gabriel frowned, cocking his head at Greg. "Are you all right, Gregory?"

"Sure, yeah, never been better!" Greg sneezed several times. He grabbed at a box of Kleenex on the nightstand, snagged a handful, and wiped his dripping nose.

"You're acting _very_ strange," Gabriel continued, his frown deepening.

Greg held up both hands as though to fend the other man off, still backing away. "Hey, take it easy there, Gabe… Gabriel." The back of his legs collided with the edge of the bed, and he sat down hard. Then he sneezed.

"Yeah, OK, Gregory," Gabriel agreed, his tone suggesting that he was pretty sure that Greg had lost his marbles. "I'll take it easy."

"Yeah, don't get all upset or anything," Greg said, oblivious to the fact that Gabriel was obviously doubting his sanity.

The angel sat down in one of the two chairs near the table. "I'll try to stay calm," he agreed with a completely straight face. He reached over and produced a bottle from the brown paper sack. "Want a beer?"

It didn't seem prudent to refuse, Greg decided. "Uh, yeah. Sure. That's great."

Gabriel slowly leaned forward in his seat and extended the beer in Greg's direction, being careful not to make any sudden moves.

Greg swallowed hard and leaned forward just as slowly, reaching out cautiously with one hand. When he felt his fingers close around the cool smooth glass, he snatched the bottle away as quickly as he could.

"Are you having some kind of breakdown, Gregory?" Gabriel asked, concerned.

"Uh… no… I don't think so," Greg said, twisting the top off the beer bottle and drinking deeply.

Gabriel put his elbows on the arms of the chair and folded his hands, steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He sat quietly, tapping his lower lip thoughtfully as he watched Greg.

This silent scrutiny finally became too much for the human. "You have the same DNA as those feathers I found in Katie's spare room," Greg blurted out, unnerved. "How can that _be_?"

"How do you think that could be, Gregory?" Gabriel asked tranquilly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've been hearing a lot of crazy things today… there's a couple of MEs who're saying… well, a lot of bizarre stuff."

"What's that?" Gabriel asked curiously.

"What's what?" Greg asked, still watching the angel warily.

"An ME?"

"Medical Examiner." Gabriel still looked puzzled, and so Greg elaborated. "A doctor who does autopsies… you know, to figure out how someone died."

"Oh, yeah," Gabriel said, nodding. "I've heard of those."

"One of them said you have DNA like nothing else on Earth. Another one told me about his friend the detective – poor guy spent his last days locked up in a monastery, raving about… about…"

"About what?"

Greg looked down at the beer bottle in his hand. "About the Archangel Gabriel."

"Thomas Daggett," Gabriel said quietly, and Greg's head jerked up. "Yeah… those were pretty bad times for everyone involved." He reached into the brown paper bag and got himself a beer. "You want some pizza?" he asked as he pulled at the bottle cap, frowning.

Greg sneezed several times and wiped his nose. "I dunno…"

Gabriel gave him an exasperated look. "If I were going to hurt you, Gregory, I would have done it in that parking lot the other day. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Greg said, his cheeks flaming at the memory. "Listen, I'm sorry about that."

"Aaaah, don't worry about it – it's history, right?"

"Yeah, but I clocked you really good," Greg said miserably, suddenly wondering if he'd earned himself a one-way ticket straight to Hell for that little stunt. He had never dreamed that he'd be worried about something like that, but then again he'd never dreamed he'd end up socking God's Messenger in the jaw, either. "Sorry."

"No big deal," Gabriel said, waving a hand dismissively.

"That was a pretty stupid thing to do. From what I've been hearing, you could've wiped the floor with me!"

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "But I knew you weren't thinking straight."

"You're right, I wasn't… and I'm still not. This has been a really bad week for me, you know?"

"Sure," Gabriel agreed absently, still struggling with his bottle cap.

Greg gathered his courage. "Here," he said, leaning forward. "Let me see." He took the beer bottle from Gabriel and easily twisted the top off. "There you go," he said, handing it back. The angel peered at it, frowning. "The cap _twists_ off," Greg explained, making a twisting motion. "You know."

"Thank you, Gregory."

"No biggie."

Gabriel opened the pizza box and helped himself to a slice. "It smells really good, doesn't it? Are you sure you don't want some?"

Greg hadn't eaten all day, and his stomach was growling painfully at the tantalizing pizza aroma.

"Sure," he agreed, hunger winning out over terror. He moved to sit in the chair across from Gabriel, reached for a slice of his own, and sneezed explosively. He only just managed to avert his head so that he didn't sneeze all over the pizza.

"Oh, stop that," Gabriel said impatiently, and waved a hand in front of Greg's face. Immediately, Greg felt his sinuses clear. His nose stopped streaming and his itchy eyes stopped watering.

He brought a hand to his face. "You… just…"

"Cured your bird allergy, yeah," Gabriel agreed with a shrug. "No big deal."

"It is to me! Why didn't you do that a long time ago?"

"Ahhhh… you know," Gabriel said with a vague gesture. He seemed embarrassed, and suddenly Greg understood.

"Yeah, I think I get it," he agreed with a rueful smile. "You liked watching me suffer… I bet you thought it was_ funny_!"

The angel shrugged again. "A little," he admitted. Greg gave him a look. "Yeah, all right – a _lot_."

Greg shook his head. "Just when I thought I've seen it all…" He sighed. "Listen, Gabe… Gabriel – and should I call you Gabriel, or is there some kind of title I'm supposed to use… 'Your Angelness' or something like that?" Gabriel gave a little laugh at this suggestion as Greg continued thoughtfully. "But I guess I've been calling you all kinds of stuff since I met you, and you haven't smited me for it yet."

"Smote," Gabriel corrected. "Not 'smited'."

"Oh – right. My bad." He suddenly realized that he had completely lost his train of thought, and he took a bite of pizza. "This is really good," he said, chewing. "Thanks for bringing it, Sport."

The nickname had fallen out of Greg's mouth before he could stop himself, but either Gabriel hadn't heard it or he didn't care. "Yeah, I had to go over to some little town about fifty miles north of here to get it."

"You drove?" Greg asked through a mouthful of pizza; he was surprised it was still hot after such a long trip.

"Nahhh… I flew."

Greg choked.

"You OK?" Gabriel asked as Greg coughed and sputtered. "You're not supposed to die choking on pizza."

"Good to know," Greg gasped, taking a drink of beer to wash down the rest of the pizza. He was quiet for a moment. "I really miss Katie, you know?" he said suddenly. "I feel like it's my fault. If I hadn't broken her heart like that… I mean, who has a stroke when they're 42 years old?"

"It wasn't your fault… Katherine didn't suffer, and she's in a better place now… in Heaven."

Greg sighed. "I'm not sure I believe in that stuff, Gabe."

The angel shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you believe or not, Gregory. It's still real."

He was silent for a moment. "So, Katie went to Heaven – " he began.

"I took her there," Gabriel corrected. "I'm the Angel of Death… that's what I do."

Greg only nodded at this. At this point, he was beyond being stunned by any pronouncement the angel might make. "OK, so you took Katie to Heaven, and she's up there right now."

"Yeah."

"And pretty soon you're going to leave here and go up there and be with her?"

The angel nodded briefly. "I'll see her, yeah."

Greg sighed. "It's kind of ironic, you know?" He looked at the floor, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "See, I always thought you might take her away from me. But I never guessed it would be like _this_."

Gabriel took a breath, hesitated. "Listen, Gregory… Katherine was born with this… this _thing_. You know. In her brain," he said, tapping the side of his own head. "A weak blood vessel. It was gonna pop eventually, no matter what… and when it did, it would have left her – "

"A vegetable," Greg finished.

"No," Gabriel said, shaking his head. "Worse. Aware… but… _trapped_. Trapped inside a useless skinsuit. Is that what you would have wanted for Katherine, Gregory… _for the rest of her life_?"

Greg was horrified. "Of course not!"

"Would that have been better than Paradise?"

"No!"

"Well… there you go," Gabriel said with a shrug. He leaned back in his seat and took a sip of beer. "That's what was _supposed_ to happen… but I asked The Boss to let me bring her home instead. She asked me once to promise I wouldn't let her suffer. And I knew what her future was supposed to be… and… I couldn't make that promise." He frowned and put a hand to his chest. "It hurt… here. You know?" He looked puzzled, as though this wasn't something he had ever experienced before.

"Yeah, Gabe – I know." He smiled. "It's part of being human."

"Huh."

Greg leaned forward in his seat. "Listen… what would you have done if… He… if The Boss had said no?"

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I've never disobeyed a direct order. But Katherine – "

Greg sipped his beer and gave Gabriel a knowing look. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"She's very important to me," Gabriel said slowly. "But no, Gregory. I'm not in love with her." He took a sip of beer. "You know… now I understand why so many of my kind have become fascinated with your women… even when it led to their own destruction."

"Yeah, they're pretty damn fascinating," Greg agreed, finishing his beer and reaching for another slice of pizza. "So what about… uh… your people. Don't you have your _own_ women to lead you down the path of self-destruction?"

"No."

"Really?" Greg was surprised. "So where do baby angels come from?" he asked, reaching for another beer.

Gabriel looked amused. "There's no such thing. If more angels are needed, The Boss creates them."

Greg blinked. "Oh."

They sat in silence for a while.

"Listen… this is a lot for me to deal with, you know?" Greg finally said, shaking his head. "This morning, I didn't even believe you existed!"

Gabriel frowned. "But you saw me almost every day for a week!"

"That's not what I meant, Sport. I didn't believe that _angels_ existed." He took a bite of pizza. "Nothing personal – you know."

"Right," Gabriel agreed.

"So you came here to tell me all this stuff, right?" Greg asked, sipping his beer. "About Katherine being in Heaven, and the thing in her brain."

"Yeah… kind of." Gabriel finished his beer and got another one out of the bag.

"You want me to – " Greg began, gesturing at the bottle in Gabriel's hand.

"Aaaah, let me try," the angel said, and twisted the cap off with a little grunt.

"Good for you, Gabe!" Greg cheered, clinking his beer bottle against Gabriel's.

"I came here because Katherine _asked_ me to," the angel continued, taking a sip of beer. "She's worried about you, Gregory."

Greg frowned. "Why?" Even as he asked, he realized how absurd it sounded, his poor dead girlfriend worrying about _him_.

"Because she knows you don't believe… and she thinks you may be doing unethical things. You defended a child rapist and murderer."

Greg felt the blood drain from his face. "Altman… he really _was_ guilty, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. You kept asking me how I knew… well," he shrugged. "Now you know."

"Now I know," Greg agreed miserably.

"Katherine doesn't want to see you go to Hell," Gabriel continued softly. "She's in Paradise. You wanna come too? You better start playing your cards right."

"She hates me," Greg reminded Gabriel. "Why would she care if I go to Hell?"

"Yeah, she was devastated… but she never stopped loving you," Gabriel said frankly. "And she's angry at you, but eternal damnation isn't something she'd wish on anyone."

Greg gave a short laugh. "And why would _you_ care if I go to Hell, Gabe? I don't think you're exactly my Number One Fan!"

"I'm not," he agreed with that same frankness. "But Katherine said she wouldn't talk to me anymore… not unless I came down here and tried to get you to turn your life around before it's too late."

"She really said that?" Greg asked, astonished.

"Yeah, she did." Gabriel finished off his beer and stood. "So consider this your wake-up call!"

Greg rose and followed him to the door. "I will… I really I have a _lot_ of thinking to do tonight!"

The angel gave a slight smile, his hand on the doorknob. "I bet."

"So I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"You will?" Gabriel frowned.

"At Katie's funeral."

"Why would I go to her funeral, Gregory?" Gabriel asked, obviously puzzled. "I see her all the time."

Greg thought about it. "Yeah, I guess I see your point."

"I'm gonna take off now," Gabriel said, opening the door. "You gonna be OK?"

"Sure, Gabe. I'll be fine."

"OK… I guess I'll see you around."

"You know…" Greg hesitated, groped for the words. "Detroit's gonna get _shellacked_ by the Cardinals week after next."

Gabriel frowned. "Never happen," he disagreed immediately.

"Oh, they're gonna get _pounded_, Gabe! You wait!"

"Aaaah, the Cardinals _stink_!" he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yeah? Well, a bunch of us hang out at Pete's Tavern whenever there's a game… not that I'd expect to see _you_ there. You might get all embarrassed when the Cardinals blow Detroit off the field!"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "What time?"

Greg shrugged. "Kickoff's at one, Sport. The festivities usually start before that, though."

Gabriel nodded. "Right."

He stepped outside, kissed a finger and waved it at Greg in blessing. A white glow surrounded the angel, becoming blinding, and he exploded into a flock of iridescent white doves flying upwards toward Heaven.

"Wow," Greg murmured. He went back inside, shut the door, and – for the first time in almost thirty years – he knelt down to pray.

* * *


	12. Epilogue I: When I Look To The Sky

"Birds of Pray"

Epilogue I: When I Look To The Sky

* * *

Gabriel perched on the edge of the mausoleum, watching the funeral that was taking place below.

He hadn't intended to come here today; he certainly wasn't in mourning for Katherine, and he didn't feel any particular need to see her body laid to rest. It was just an empty vessel now. The real Katherine was safe Upstairs… so why wasn't he up there with her?

Someone landed right beside him.

"I think he'll be all right, Gabriel," Simon said softly. Instead of folding his wings neatly behind him, he allowed his right wing to drape gently over the other angel's back. The sensation of feathers against feathers, wing against wings was delicious, but Gabriel refused to allow himself to be distracted.

"Look, there's Mary," Gabriel said, pointing down at one of the mourners, a young Native American woman in a long black dress. She wore feathers in her hair and a silver armband around her right upper arm. "Boy, she grew up."

Simon smiled slightly. "She's a lovely young woman now."

"Aaaah, behave yourself," Gabriel said teasingly, and Simon laughed.

"I think it's over," the red-haired angel said. "People are starting to leave."

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. The angels watched as Mary approached Greg and laid a gentle hand on his arm, looking up into his eyes and speaking quietly to him.

"Thank you," Greg said, nodding and wiping his cheeks.

She looked past him, up to where Gabriel and Simon were perched. "You have friendly spirits watching over you," she told Greg, using one hand to shade her eyes against the bright afternoon sun.

He followed her gaze, frowning. "Where? I don't see anything!"

She smiled, gestured. "Up there."

"Yeah, in Heaven," he agreed, misunderstanding. "You know, just yesterday I didn't believe in that stuff."

"And now?"

He sighed. "And now I'm going to go back to Phoenix and try to get my life in order – before it's too late."

"Good for you."

"Hi Mary," a young blonde woman called, and Mary turned, smiling.

"Sandra," she said, embracing the woman. "I didn't expect to see you. I heard you moved to Colorado."

"I never would have missed Miss Henley's funeral," Sandra said, wiping a tear from her cheek.

"That's little Sandra!" Gabriel said, surprised. "They really grow up fast, these humans!"

Simon smiled. "You never noticed that before?"

Gabriel shrugged, his great white wings rising briefly against Simon's wing, which was still draped over them. "Never really paid attention, I guess."

"My cousin dropped me off on his way into town," Mary was telling Sandra. "I'll probably just walk back to the reservation – who knows when he'll be done?"

Sandra laughed. "All right," she said, embracing the other woman again. "Let's keep in touch."

"Yes, let's," Mary agreed. "Life is short."

"I'll e-mail you," Sandra promised. As Mary watched her walk off to rejoin a dark-haired man, Greg came up behind her.

"I couldn't help but overhear… I could give you a ride back, if you want," he offered.

She glanced up at the two angels. Simon smiled and gave her a thumbs-up gesture, and she laughed.

"Sure," she agreed, turning back to Greg. "That would be nice."

"I think I'll have good news for Katherine when we get back Upstairs," Gabriel mused, watching Greg escort Mary to his car. He gallantly held the passenger door open for her. "I think Gregory will be OK."

"And how are _you_, Gabriel?" Simon asked suddenly, stealing a glance at the other angel out of the corner of his eye.

Gabriel was silent for a moment. "Better," he said finally. "I'm glad I got the chance to talk things through with Katherine before it happened… she wasn't afraid to die. So I managed to do something right for a change, you know?"

"You were a great comfort to her," Simon agreed, watching Gabriel carefully. "And a good friend."

"Never thought _that_ would happen," Gabriel murmured. "Even when I was human, I never really connected with anyone down here… not like that."

"Well, you're not an easy person to know," Simon told him frankly.

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed readily. He began to tick off his shortcomings on his fingers. "I'm abrasive… I _always_ think I'm right… I can be arrogant… I have a smart mouth… and I – "

"And _I_ wouldn't have you any other way," Simon interrupted with a smile. "And neither would He," he continued, pointing upward.

"I don't know how _anyone_ puts up with me," Gabriel said with a straight face. "The Boss said I could even make _Job_ lose his patience!"

Simon laughed. "Just stop terrorizing those poor principalities, all right? Camael said you have two of them thinking that they were personally responsible for that princess who died."

Gabriel shrugged. "They should've been watching her better."

"It was her time and _you know it_ – Angel of Death!"

"Aaahh, they could stand to be more vigilant," he said dismissively.

"You're impossible!" Simon told him with exasperated affection. "You know that?"

"Sure." Gabriel brushed Simon's wing aside and stood. "Ready to go?" he asked, offering his hand.

"Yeah," Simon agreed, allowing Gabriel to pull him to his feet. "Where to?"

"Somewhere they have football. I gotta figure that game out before the week after next or I'm gonna look like an idiot!"

Simon laughed. The two angels spread their wings and took off into the clear blue sky.

* * *

Greg and Mary talked briefly as he drove her up the long dusty road that led to the Hualapai Nation.

"She was the best teacher I ever had," Mary told him. "She really cared about us, her kids."

"I know," Greg said, his voice breaking.

"I'm sorry," Mary said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all right," he assured her, reaching behind his sunglasses with one finger to wipe away a tear. He gave a short laugh. "It's good to remember, you know?"

She nodded.

He leaned forward and turned the radio on and was rewarded with a burst of static.

"You won't be able to get anything on FM," she told him as he twisted the tuning knob. "Reception's really bad out here."

"Well, _fudge_," he swore, making her laugh. As he was about to give up, music suddenly blared out of the speakers.

" _– I can feel you like a notion that won't seem to let me go. 'Cause when I look to the sky, something tells me you're here with me, and you make everything all right."_

Greg and Mary exchanged a surprised look. "That's not possible – " she began.

"_When I feel like I'm lost, something tells me you're here with me, and I can always find my way when you are here._"

Greg smiled through his tears and turned up the radio as loud as it would go.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The song "When I Look To The Sky" belongs to Train.

* * *


	13. Epilogue II: I Gotta Go See A Guy

"Birds of Pray"

Epilogue II: I Gotta Go See A Guy…

* * *

The Cardinals scored a touchdown, and the bar went wild.

"Damn, I wish Gabe were here to see _this_!" Greg said under his breath as he made his way to the men's room. "I'd love to see him eat his words!"

He hadn't been very surprised when the game began and Gabriel still hadn't arrived; surely God's Messenger had better things to do than sit around a smoky bar drinking beer with a bunch of guys and watching the Lions get hammered by the Cardinals on Pete's large screen television.

He pushed open the men's room door and got the shock of his life.

Gabriel was standing there in all his angelic glory, right there in the middle of the men's room at Pete's Tavern.

Greg froze for a minute, staring.

The angel wore a long dark blue cloak brocaded in silver thread over a black silk shirt and matching trousers, which were tucked into knee-high black boots. The hilt of a knife was visible above the top of his left boot, sheathed there as protection against enemies that Greg couldn't imagine. Gabriel's trumpet dangled from a hook on a silver chain link belt worn loosely around his waist, and Greg was struck with sudden realization: _Oh dear God above… _he's_ the angel who's supposed to blow his horn on Judgment Day… and _that's_ the horn he's going to blow!_ But even more amazing were the enormous white wings rising up behind the angel… if Greg hadn't believed before, he certainly would have been convinced _now_.

"Hello, Gregory," Gabriel said.

"Uh…" Greg said, pushing the men's room door shut behind him and locking it. "That's… that's really some outfit, Gabe," he finally managed. "Don't you think you're kind of… um… overdressed?"

"Yeah, I'm not staying. I gotta go see a guy… give him a Message." He shrugged. "You know – that's what I _do_."

"Oh. Right." Greg couldn't stop staring at those big white wings… he even had a bizarre urge to reach out and stroke them, to run both hands down them, but he resisted. He knew instinctively that Gabriel wouldn't appreciate being petted like an animal, though he had a suspicion that the angel would have tolerated it from Katie.

"How's Katie?" he asked, deliberately clasping his hands behind his back.

"She's fine," Gabriel assured him, sounding amused. "She's in Heaven – how else would she be?"

"Yeah. Dumb question."

"I just stopped by here to see you real quick – I didn't want you to think I forgot," Gabriel said. "You know, about the game today."

"It's OK – I figured you had things you had to do," Greg said, nodding.

"Next time, though," Gabriel promised, extending his hand. "Yeah?"

"You bet, Sport," Greg told him, shaking his hand and giving him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Oh, hey – you know, Altman's been indicted on four more counts of child molestation and four counts of murder in the first degree… some campers found the bodies of those four little girls you were talking about."

"Gosh… I wonder how _that_ happened," Gabriel said innocently. "Maybe a little bird told them."

"Yeah – or a great big one!"

Gabriel tried on a wounded look. "Who, _me_?"

"I'm not buying it, Gabe."

"Aaaah, Katherine convinced me to do it… I just whispered in their ears while they were sleeping, and the rest is history." He cocked his head at Greg. "I guess you're representing him, huh?"

"Nope."

"Really? Why not?"

"'Cause I _quit_, that's why. There's an opening in the DA's Office and I'm going for it."

Gabriel smiled. "That's _terrific_, Gregory! I think Katherine will be really happy about that."

"I think so too. And I kept in touch with that student of hers – Mary. I'm going to do some pro bono work for her tribe."

"I remember Mary," Gabriel mused. "From Chimney Rock."

"Yeah, she told me some of that," Greg agreed. "So, are you _ever_ going to tell me that 'lawng stahwry' of yours, Sport?"

Gabriel nodded. "Yeah – next time, OK? I _really_ gotta take off now… go see that guy."

"All right. You… uh… you fly careful."

"I will," he promised. He opened his wings and Greg took a step back, shielding his eyes against the blinding white light that suddenly surrounded Gabriel.

When he looked again, the angel was gone.

Greg suddenly remembered something. "Hey, you know what? The Cardinals are _wiping the field_ with Detroit!" he said into the empty bathroom. "How do you like _that_, Gabe?"

The thought appeared in his mind as smoothly as though it had been his own: _Aaaah, they _still _stink!_

Greg laughed and went to unlock the door.

FINIS.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If you're curious about the Message that Gabriel's going to deliver, check out my fic _The Kindness of Strangers_!

* * *


End file.
